


Over the Hills and Far Away

by OpenPage



Category: 21 Jump Street (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Drug Use, Explicit Language, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Nightmares, Oral Sex, Prostitution, Rape, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 09:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 41
Words: 93,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpenPage/pseuds/OpenPage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my take on what could have happened in the 21 Jump Street episode “La Bizca” where Hanson and Penhall travel to El Salvador to try and find Doug’s wife Marta, who has disappeared during the Salvadoran Civil War after being deported from the US.</p><p>Set in the early 1990s, Tom and Doug are traveling through the dense forest of El Salvador with the El Salvador Freedom Fighters (The Rebels) in search of Doug’s wife Marta who was last known to be living at a farm co-operative call El Triunfo (The Triumph).  Part way through their journey, they are kidnapped by Government Soldiers and are held for days and violently tortured.  When The Freedom Fighters storm the government compound, they manage to rescue Doug but Tom cannot be found.  Doug has no choice but to continue on his journey and when he arrives at his wife’s village, he finds out that she has been murdered by soldiers.  Marta’s sister Rosina asks Doug to take her six-year-old son Clavo back to America until he is old enough to return and fight for The Rebels. </p><p>Whilst the rest of the Jump Street team get on with their lives, Dennis Booker devotes his time searching for Hanson and then one day, he receives the news he has been waiting for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Crying Song

**Author's Note:**

> I have dedicated this fic to my loyal reader  [Kundry Athalia](http://archiveofourown.org/works/search?utf8=%E2%9C%93&work_search%5Bquery%5D=kundryathalia) who has stroked my ego with her lovely reviews on my previous stories.  Without her help with all the Spanish translations needed for this tale, I would never have been able to put my thoughts onto paper.  So thank you for all your help and kind words  [Kundry Athalia](http://archiveofourown.org/works/search?utf8=%E2%9C%93&work_search%5Bquery%5D=kundryathalia), as you already know, I appreciate it greatly my friend :)
> 
> All chapter names are Pink Floyd song titles.  There is really no reason for this except that they seem to fit with the theme of my story and I love Pink Floyd :)
> 
> **Disclaimer: I do not own 21 Jump Street or any the characters from it.  I do not make any money from the writing of this story.  All characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.**
> 
>  **No copyright infringement is intended.**
> 
> ****_Please note that I have never been to El Salvador.  My descriptions are based on what was shown in the Jump Street episode “La Bizca” and what I have researched on the internet.  Any inaccuracies are purely because of my ignorance on the subject and I beg your forgiveness :)_

**Prologue - Crying Song**

_Doug Penhall heard the screech of the door bolt sliding back and he sat up with a jolt, crying out as his bruised ribs flared from the sudden agitation.  The door opened and a soldier threw Hanson’s limp body onto the floor before slamming the door closed again and sliding the bolt back into place.  Crawling through the straw that lay scattered on the cement floor, Doug pulled Tom’s battered body into his arms.  Hanson cried out in pain as Doug attempted to make a pillow from the hay and placed it under Tom’s head. Once satisfied that Tom was reasonably comfortable, Penhall scrambled slowly back to the corner of the room and curling into a ball, he fell into a pain-filled sleep._

_**_

_A terrified shriek woke Doug and he fought in vain to prevent the soldiers from dragging Tom from the room.  When the door banged shut, tears of fear and frustration spilled from his eyes.  It was the third time the soldiers had taken Hanson away and each time he returned, the young Jump Street officer’s face and body bore evidence of the torture the soldiers were inflicting.  All through the night, Doug tried to block out the sound of Tom’s tormented screams and then just before daybreak, an eerie silence hung heavy in the stifling early morning air.  Doug waited for Tom to return but hours passed and no one unlocked the door.  Late in the day, he heard the distant volley of gunfire and he struggled to his feet, leaning against the wall for support.  The sound of shooting and angry voices gradually became louder until they were right outside the room.  The door suddenly crashed open to reveal a gun-toting rebel who beckoned urgently for him to follow.  Hobbling down the long, dark corridor, Doug looked desperately around him, searching for any sign of Hanson.  Once outside, he begged with his rescuers to find his friend.  Rosina and Paco went back into the compound but returned twenty minutes later and reported that Tom was not in the building or the surrounding area.  They explained to Doug that it was common for the soldiers to take a hostage as a “pet” and keep him for their own amusement.  Not wanting to believe that his best friend was gone, Penhall ignored the pain raging through his body and ran back into the dilapidated building, searching every room for any sign of Tom.  Re-entering the building, Rosina eventually found Doug in a corner, crying inconsolably for his lost friend.  She gently coaxed him out, explaining that if they were to make El Triunfo by nightfall, they needed to get moving._

_In a state of shock, Doug clambered to his feet and followed the rebels back into the jungle, not knowing if he would ever see his friend again._

_**_

_Lying on the moss covered jungle floor, Tom could just make out five men sitting around a fire drinking tequila.  His tethered arms ached painfully behind his back and he had lost the feeling in his feet from the tight binding around his ankles.  He was exhausted from the humidity and the searing pain that ran through his entire body.  They had walked for hours through the jungle and when Hanson thought he could no longer continue, a soldier pushed him roughly to the ground and bound his ankles to prevent him from escaping.  The men had cooked some sort of food on the campfire but had not offered any to Tom.  He was hungry and dehydrated but most of all he was terrified.  Terrified of what had happened to Penhall and terrified of what was to become of him.  He had already suffered unspeakable torture at the hands of his captors and he did not know how much more his body could take._

_As the tequila flowed, the men’s voices became louder and they laughed raucously at jokes Hanson could not understand.  After several hours, they struggled drunkenly to their feet and staggered over to where he was laying.  The largest of the men reached down and grabbing a handful of Tom’s hair, he pulled him to his feet.  The man held him firm whilst another man squatted on the ground and untied the strap around his ankles.  Unable to feel his feet, Tom only managed to stand because the burly Salvadoran held him upright.  Laughing hysterically, the man on the ground, unbuttoned Hanson’s jeans and ripped down the zipper.  Tom immediately started to struggle.  “NO!” he screamed, as the man quickly removed his jeans and boxers.  “Oh Jesus!  No!  Please NO!”_

_The large man threw Tom face first onto the ground and kneeling down, he yanked the young officer’s tethered arms painfully upwards.  As his shoulder dislocated, Tom screamed in agony.  The men snorted with amusement and the man unzipped his fly and pulled out his erect cock.  “Fuck Americano,” he said, laughing loudly as he lay on top of Hanson._

_“NO!” Tom cried hysterically when he felt the man’s hard cock pushing against him.  “Oh GOD!   DON’T!  STOP!  STOP!  STOP!”_

_With a loud grunt, the man shoved his cock deep into Hanson’s resisting body.  The pain for Tom was almost unbearable and he screamed loudly whilst the men laughed at his humiliation and pain.  “Cojer  el bello Americano!” the other four men chorused, clapping their hands in unison.  Several minutes passed and then the soldier’s body shuddered violently as his orgasm hit.  A minute later, he stood up, revealing the blood and semen coating Tom’s backside and thighs.  Taking a large swig of tequila, a second man climbed on top of Hanson and so it went on until each man reached his climax.  When the final rape was over, Tom lay motionless, no longer begging them to stop.  Not bothering to redress their prisoner, the large man bound Tom’s legs together before joining his fellow soldiers by the fire and falling asleep._

_Laying face down, Tom cried as he breathed in the earthy smell of the jungle floor.  The nasal croaking of the Torogoz bird and the earsplitting song of the cicadas drowned out the sound of his sobbing.  Curling into the fetal position, he closed his eyes and prayed that Penhall would rescue him before he had to endure any more assaults at the hands of the government soldiers._


	2. The Travel Sequence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Laying face down, Tom cried as he breathed in the earthy smell of the jungle floor. The nasal croaking of the Torogoz bird and the earsplitting song of the cicadas drowned out the sound of his sobbing. Curling into the fetal position, he closed his eyes and prayed that Penhall would rescue him before he had to endure any more assaults at the hands of the government soldiers._

[**The Travel Sequence**](viewstory.php?sid=55157&chapter=2) 

Sitting in the bustling departure lounge of the Aeropuerto Internacional in Mexico City, Booker once again checked his watch.  He had spent nearly four hours on a plane and he had been waiting for his connecting flight for over two hours.  Even though he had woken at 4am he was not tired, instead, the adrenaline that pumped through his body made him feel sweaty and jumpy.  Impatiently checking the departure screen, he heard an announcement just as the monitor updated.

_“Vuelo cuatro cuatro y nueve con destino a San Salvador listo para ser abordado en puerto número ocho”_

Booker understood enough Spanish to translate that flight four-four-nine to San Salvador was boarding from gate eight.  Standing up, he picked up his small travel bag and headed towards the departure gate.  Lining up behind a mixture of Americans and Salvadorans, he showed his boarding pass and walked onto the plane, taking his place in seat A37.  As he stared out of the small window, his mind traveled back to two days before when he had received a fax from Ben Halley, his eyes and ears in El Salvador.  Over the past two years, he had received many faxes and correspondences from Ben, all relating to American men found either hurt or dead throughout El Salvador.  Each time, Dennis’ heart had skipped a beat, wondering if the man found lying in a ditch or in a hospital room was Hanson.  However, time and time again it proved to be some other unfortunate US citizen who had met with foul play in the land of volcanoes.  Once the information was received, Booker felt obliged to pass on what he knew to the American Embassy in Antiguo Cuscatlán and the American Bureau of Consular Affairs so they could organize an investigation and notify the relatives.

But then, two days ago, Booker had received the notification he had been hoping for every day since he had begun his search for Hanson.  He had been standing by the filing cabinet when the high-pitched squeal of the fax machine alerted him to an incoming transmission.  Walking back over to his desk, he watched as the first page fed through and a printed message appeared.  Picking it up, he read Ben’s familiar scrawl.  

_Twenty something year old male found in the town of Apaneca.  Taken to hospital at Ahuachapán.  Obvious trauma, language restricted to a few words of Spanish.  Photo attached.  From what I remember of him, he looks a lot like Tom.  Regards, Ben_

As the black and white photo slowly appeared, Booker held his breath.  He watched as the top of a head and then two eyes appeared as the paper fed through the machine.  When he saw the large eyes staring back at him, Dennis knew immediately that it was Tom.  As the fax machine beeped, signaling the end of the transmission, Booker picked up the photo and stared at it in shock.  Hanson’s expression was bewildered, almost dazed and Dennis felt a sharp pain stab at his heart.  Snatching up the phone, he immediately dialed Penhall’s number.  When Doug’s answering machine picked up Booker realized that the ex Jump Street officer would still be at work.  Waiting for the loud beep, he recorded his message.  “Penhall, it’s Booker.  Call me back as soon as you get this, I’ve found him.”

Slamming down the phone, Dennis once again stared at the photo in his hand.  Tom’s filthy hair hung in long strands around his gaunt face.  Light stubble covered his top lip, his chin and his lower jaw.  A long scar ran down the left side of his cheek and the dark smudges under his eyes gave him the appearance of a man much older than his twenty-three years.  It was a horrific portrayal of a man who just two years before could have passed as a teenager.  Even though he and Hanson had never been close when they worked together as part of the Jump Street Program, Booker felt an overwhelming sense of sadness wash over him.  After his and Hanson’s disastrous first case together, Dennis had been surprised to realize that he felt a strong sexual attraction towards the pretty young officer.  He had not disclosed his feelings, as he was well aware that Hanson was heterosexual.  Knowing the force’s view on homosexuality, Dennis had kept his bi-sexuality a secret from his colleagues.  Not that it bothered him that they did not know, he was a very private person, preferring to keep work and his personal life separate.  Then, when Penhall had returned from El Salvador without Tom, Dennis had known he would move heaven and earth to try to find out what had happened to him.  It had surprised Booker that Penhall and the other Jump Street officers had not been more proactive in trying to find Hanson.  All had moved on with their lives in the years since Tom went missing.  Doug had moved to Colorado with Clavo and he now worked a desk job at the local P.D.  Judy Hoffs had become a homicide detective and Harry Ioki worked vice.  Their commanding officer, Captain Adam Fuller, had passed away six months after Tom’s disappearance.  A drunk driver had slammed into his car at an intersection and he had died instantly.  It had been a blow to them all, losing the man who had helped shape them as young police officers and it had signaled the beginning of the end of their lives at The Chapel.  Unable to find another Captain willing to take on the position, the Mayor had terminated the Jump Street program.  In need of a change, Booker had sat for his P.I. license.  Once qualified, he had rented a small office space and started his own business, _D. P. Booker Investigations_.  Being freelance, he was able to spend hundreds of hours investigating Tom’s disappearance.  Doug had given him the name of the man who had initially helped himself and Hanson meet the rebels who could escort them through the jungle to El Triunfo, a middle-aged ex CIA operative who now resided in San Salvador.  Ben Halley’s knowledge of the country and its people had been invaluable to Booker and he now considered the man a close friend.  Without his help, Booker knew he would have had no hope of ever finding Hanson.

As the plane’s engines rumbled to life, Dennis pulled out the photo of Tom from his jeans pocket.  Unfolding the rumpled piece of paper, he stared into Hanson’s wild, confused eyes.  “I’m coming for you Tommy,” he murmured softly, a lump forming in his throat.  When the plane taxied down the runway, Booker closed his eyes and relaxed back into his seat.  In an approximately one hour, he would be in El Salvador and then it was only an hour and a half’s drive to Ahuachapán where he would see Tom for the first time in over two years.

**

Walking through the arrivals lounge in the Cuscatlán International Airport, Dennis spotted Ben’s large, broad frame immediately.  Smiling, he extended his hand.  “Benny, how’ve you been?” he greeted warmly.  

Ben Halley pulled Dennis into a warm hug.  “You’re gonna need to lose that leather jacket Dennis, it’s as humid as Hades in the monsoon season out there.  No matter how long I live here, I never get used to it.”  Pulling out a wrinkled handkerchief, he mopped theatrically at the sweat on his dark brow.

Booker laughed.  Ben was as animated as ever.  Shrugging out of his jacket, he rolled up his sleeves and followed Halley as he navigated through the crowds.  

“So,” Halley addressed Dennis.  “Are you going to spend the night in sultry San Salvador or do you want to hire a car and drive straight on to Ahuachapán?”

Booker knew he would not get a restful night’s sleep knowing that Tom was so close.  “Drive through.  No point in hanging around here.  It’s only about an hour and a half isn’t it?”

“Give or take”, Ben replied, steering Booker towards the airport car rental offices.  “Wish I could travel with you Denny boy but I’ve got a prior engagement.”  Booker did not query the large American, as he was well aware that many of Ben’s activities in El Salvador were considered unlawful.  Arriving at the desk, Halley gave the girl behind the counter a broad grin.  “Hola.  Cuánto pide usted por un auto de alquiler durante una semana?”  
   
The young girl quoted an amount for one week’s car rental.  After signing the paperwork, Booker pulled his credit card out of his wallet and paid the bill.  He then handed several hundred American dollars to Ben who traded them for Salvadoran colónes.  Taking the car keys, he and Halley walked outside into the stifling air and found the rather battered looking Toyota.  Unlocking the boot, Dennis tossed in his bag and jacket before slamming it shut.  “Thanks for everything Ben, I’ll give you a call when I arrive at Antiguo Cuscatlán, I’m going to need help getting Tommy his papers.”

“I almost forgot,” Halley replied, reaching into his pocket and pulling out two pieces of paper.  Handing them to Dennis, he explained their purpose.  “This is a fake document for Tom.  It won’t get you out of the country, but if soldiers stop you, it should be good enough not to raise any suspicion.  And this,” he continued, handing Booker the second piece of paper, “is a map to the hospital in Ahuachapán and the name of a cheap hotel.”  Smiling broadly, he gave Dennis another hug.  “Be careful my friend, it’s hard to know who to trust in this God forsaken country.”

“Thanks Ben, I don’t know what I would have done without you,” Booker replied sincerely.   Climbing into the car, he wound down the window and gave Halley a final wave before pulling out of the parking lot and into the slow moving traffic.

**

Driving along the narrow hilly roads towards Ahuachapán, Booker found himself constantly pulled over by government soldiers.  They checked his passport suspiciously before allowing him to continue his journey.  As he traveled further west, the road curved up steep hills and large imposing mountains came into view, rising majestically from the rugged terrain.  Dropping the Toyota into low gear, Booker drove carefully along the rut-filled road as he climbed higher above sea level.  The temperature in the car soared and he was annoyed to find that the air conditioner was faulty.  His clothes stuck uncomfortably to his skin and he wished he had thought to buy some bottled water before leaving the airport.  After an hour and forty-five minutes on the road, a large signpost signaled that Ahuachapán was only a mile away.  The humidity and his discomfort were immediately forgotten and Booker pressed his foot down on the accelerator and sped up.  He was so close to Tom he could almost feel it.  

Approaching the city, he slowed his pace as he glanced down at the hand drawn map that Ben had given him.  In his rush to get to Hanson, he took several wrong turns before finally finding the hospital.  Parking the car on the street, Booker got out and stared up at the imposing brown clay brick building.  He could feel his heart hammering in his chest and he clenched his fists into tight balls.  Now that he was just moments from seeing Hanson, he felt extremely apprehensive.  From the reports Ben had received from the source who had found Tom, Hanson was not in good shape.  It was obvious he had suffered at the hands of his captors and Booker wondered if the psychological damage would be too extensive to allow Tom to lead a normal life ever again.  There was now no immediate family to take care of Tom as his mother had passed away just three months ago from a sudden heart attack.  Before her death, Margaret Hanson had given up any hope of ever finding her son and Booker had stopped phoning her when he had a lead that he thought was promising.  It seemed unbelievably cruel to Dennis that Hanson had been found only months after Margaret’s death and therefore, he had been denied a final farewell.  Booker was extremely close to his own mother and he could not imagine being deprived of the chance to say one last goodbye.

Realizing that he had been standing outside the hospital procrastinating for several minutes, Booker took a deep breath to steady his nerves and walked slowly into the building.


	3. Hey You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Now that he was just moments from seeing Hanson, he felt extremely apprehensive. From the reports Ben had received from the source who had found Tom, Hanson was not in good shape. It was obvious he had suffered at the hands of his captors and Booker wondered if the psychological damage would be too extensive to allow Tom to lead a normal life ever again. There was now no immediate family to take care of Tom as his mother had passed away just three months ago from a sudden heart attack. Before her death, Margaret Hanson had given up any hope of ever finding her son and Booker had stopped phoning her when he had a lead that he thought was promising. It seemed unbelievably cruel to Dennis that Hanson had been found only months after Margaret’s death and therefore, he had been denied a final farewell. Booker was extremely close to his own mother and he could not imagine being deprived of the chance to say one last goodbye._
> 
> _Realizing that he had been standing outside the hospital procrastinating for several minutes, Booker took a deep breath to steady his nerves and walked slowly into the building._

**Hey You**  

The young woman at reception understood enough English and Booker’s poor attempt at Spanish, to realize that he was there to see Tom.  “Aaah… Norteamericano enfermo,” she answered with a smile.  “Un momento, un momento.”  Picking up the phone, she spoke rapidly to the person at the other end.  When she replaced the receiver, she again flashed her brilliant, white toothed smile.  Pointing towards the ceiling, she held up three fingers.  “Americano,” she repeated, indicating that Booker was to travel to the third floor.

“Gracias,” Booker replied, returning the smile.  Walking over to the elevator, he pressed the up arrow and waited anxiously for the doors to open.  Stepping inside, he pushed the button for the third floor.  When the doors opened, he alighted into a wide, airy corridor.  He immediately stopped a middle-aged nurse who was pushing a patient in a wheelchair.  “Enfermo Americano?” he asked.  The nurse shook her head and continued on her way.  

Walking along the hallway, Booker stopped another nurse, this one much younger.  He repeated his question and she smiled as she nodded her head.  “American?  I take you,” she offered in broken English.

As they continued down the long hallway, Booker tried to glean some information on Tom’s condition.  “How is he?” he asked slowly, hoping the woman would understand.

The nurse stopped and laid a hand on Dennis’ arm.  “How you Americans say?  He ahhh… he no good… no good.”

A shiver of fear ran down Booker’s spine.  “What exactly does that mean?” he asked quietly, almost too afraid to hear the answer.

Pausing to think of the words, the young nurse twirled her finger next to her head.  “He loco… he crazy,” she replied, her dark eyes filling with sadness.  When they stopped outside a small dark room, she tried once again to communicate with Dennis.  Miming taking something from her hand and swallowing it, she pressed her hands together and placed them against her cheek as she tilted her head.  “Soporífero,” she murmured softly, which Booker took as meaning that Tom was sleepy from medication.

Nodding that he understood, Dennis thanked the nurse and stepped into the room.  It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness but he could just make out a figure lying on a hospital gurney.  A heart monitor beeped rhythmically, recording Tom’s heart rate and pulse and an intravenous line pumped fluid into a vein in his arm.  Moving closer to the bed, Booker gasped when he saw that broad leather straps tethered Tom’s hands and feet to the bed.  “Oh Jesus,” he whispered softly.  Reaching out, he took hold of Hanson’s hand as he stared deep into his sleeping face.  He took in the dirty, straggly hair framing Tom’s gaunt, unshaven face.  When he stepped closer, he could clearly see the red scar that ran vertically down Hanson’s cheek.  When Dennis’ eyes moved downwards, he saw that the fingers he held were missing several nails.  He felt his stomach lurch and perspiration prickled on his forehead as a wave of nausea washed over him.  Taking several deep breaths, he continued his observations.  Sores and bruises covered Tom’s arms and although a cotton sheet covered his body, Booker could see that Tom was much thinner than he had been previously.  Dennis’ emotions got the better of him and he stifled a sob.  Although the photograph had somewhat prepared him for Tom’s condition, now that he had actually laid eyes on him, Booker found it overwhelming.  He could honestly say that he had never witnessed such a pathetic sight in all his life.  

Dragging a red plastic chair closer to the bed, Dennis sat down just as a tall, attractive nurse entered the room.  Noticing Booker, she smiled sadly.  “You must be the friend.  They said you’d be coming.”  Booker sighed with relief when he heard the strong Texan accent.  Standing back up, he offered his hand and the nurse introduced herself as Emily Adams.  Moving over to the monitor, she checked the readings.  “It must have been quite a shock when you saw him,” she stated matter-of-factly.  “He’s been through a hell of a lot by the looks of it.”

Booker’s eyes traveled back to the leather restraints.  “Why is he tied up?” he asked quietly.

Nurse Adams stared down at Tom.  “The nurses were complaining that he kept touching himself, you know, in a sexual way and he was groping the male doctors.  In the end, we had to restrain him and give him some sedatives because he became so angry if we tried to stop him.  It happens sometimes when a victim has suffered prolonged rapes, they look for sexual contact as a way to reassert a measure of control over their sexual relations.  It’s all part of the Rape Trauma Syndrome.”

Staring back in disbelief, Dennis shook his head.  “I’m sorry, _what_ did you say?”

“The Rape Trauma Syndrome, there are many different—”

“Tommy was _RAPED_?” Booker yelled, standing up so quickly that he knocked over his chair.

“I’m sorry,” Emily apologized quietly, her face flushing slightly, “I thought you knew.”

“Jesus _FUCKING Christ!”_ Dennis exclaimed.  “Who the fuck _does_ that?  It isn’t enough that they tortured him, they had to rape him too?  What sort of a fucked up country is this?”

Emily Adams sighed heavily.  “You can’t blame El Salvador, plenty of rapes happen in America too.”

Booker knew this to be true but the knowledge only made him feel more nauseous.  Looking down at Tom’s ravaged face, tears filled his eyes as he imagined the terror and degradation Hanson must have felt at the hands of his attackers.  Stepping forward, he once again took Tom’s hand in his own and he gave the fingers a gentle squeeze.  “Is he okay?” he asked, his voice barely audible.  “I mean… _Oh Jesus!_   Did they damage him, you know… internally?”

Laying a comforting hand on Dennis arm, Nurse Adams spoke quietly as she too stared down at Hanson.  “There was evidence of anal tearing that has since healed.  He’s been tested for STDs and HIV but we won’t get the results for a week or so.  Preliminary testing showed cocaine in his system, which is a common drug among the government soldiers as it increases sexual appetite.  Several of his fingers have been broken and he’s missing some fingernails.  The scarring on his back is consistent with being whipped and there are rope burns around his wrists and ankles.  When they found him, he had a dog collar around his neck with a chain attached.  He’s malnourished and dehydrated but considering what he’s been through, his health is quite good.  He must have been in excellent shape prior to being kidnapped.”

“He was,” Dennis murmured softly, remembering Tom’s taut physique.  As he pushed Tom’s dirty hair from his sleeping face, he sighed sadly.  “When can I take him home?”

Adams narrowed her eyes and gave Booker a hard stare.  “You do understand that your friend may never be the same as you remember him don’t you?” she stated candidly.  “He’s not spoken any English since arriving, just the odd word of Spanish.  The trauma he’s endured will have changed him significantly both physically and emotionally.  If I were you, I’d be looking into psychiatric facilities, at least for the interim.”

“I need to get him to the American Embassy in Antiguo Cuscatlán so I can organize his papers.  Will he be okay to travel?” Booker asked, ignoring the talk of psychiatric facilities and trying to focus on the practicalities rather than Tom’s mental condition.

“You need to speak to Doctor Rodriguez but I would think that once he’s eaten solids he can be released.  There’s very little we can do for him here,” Emily replied.  

“When will the sedative wear off?” Dennis inquired, needing to see for himself what he would be dealing with once Tom was awake.

Walking to the door, Nurse Adams turned and looked at her watch.  “In about an hour.”  She gave Dennis a sad smile.  “I can see how much he means to you but you need to be prepared for the worst, okay?”

Booker returned a half smile as he stroked Hanson’s face.  “Tommy’s a fighter,” he replied softly, “And I’m going to do everything I can to help him.”

Emily’s expression relaxed.  “He’s very lucky to have you.  I wish you both all the best.”

Nodding, Dennis turned his attention back to Tom.  Picking up the red chair, he sat down and began gently stroking Hanson’s dirty face.  “I’m here now Tommy.  Everything’s going to be okay, you hear me?  Everything’s going to be okay.”

Tom showed no sign that he heard Booker’s assurances.  As the heart monitor beeped steadily, Dennis became silent as he stared at his ex colleague and waited for him to wake up.

**

The long day’s travel finally caught up with Dennis and suddenly feeling exhausted he closed his eyes.  He pictured Tom and Doug sparring good-naturedly as the McQuaid brothers and a soft sigh escaped his lips.  He had always been envious of their easygoing relationship, wishing that he too could be a part of it.  But Hanson barely acknowledged him except when they were forced to work together.  Booker knew that Tom’s aloofness made him all the more attractive, it was the allure of wanting something he knew he had no hope of attaining.  That and the fact that Tom was mesmerizingly beautiful.  Dennis had dated many attractive men but Hanson was in a league of his own.  Booker literally felt his heart skip a beat whenever he looked at Tom and on many occasions during their working life, it had been extremely difficult to keep his feelings hidden, especially on the rare occasion when they physically touched.  Dennis had spent many nights alone in his apartment pleasuring himself whilst imagining it was Tom’s long fingers slowly jerking him off.  It was his own dirty little secret and sometimes he actually felt guilty about it.  He did not want to imagine what Hanson’s thoughts would be if he ever found out about it, needless to say, he probably would not find it flattering.

As Dennis’ head nodded forward, he felt a slight movement in his hand.  Jerking awake, he looked down and saw that Tom’s fingers were twitching.  Turning to look at Hanson’s face, he observed Tom’s eyes slowly blinking open.  Standing up, Booker gazed down at the man he hoped one day, would view him as a friend.  “Hey Tommy,” he murmured softly.  “It’s Booker.”

Tom’s stare slowly came into focus.  Immediately he tried to move his arms and legs but the leather straps held him firm.  A frown creased his brow as he became agitated.  “Tócame!” he grunted, his hands balling into fists of frustration.  _Touch!_ “Quiero!” _Want!_

Booker shook his head in bewilderment.  “I don’t know what you’re saying Tommy,” he replied.  “What do you want?”

“TÓCAME!  TÓCAME!” Tom screamed, his body contorting against the bindings.  

Beginning to become frightened at Tom’s level of agitation, Booker stood up.  Looking around him, he decided to take matters into his own hands.  Taking hold of the strap that held Tom’s right wrist, he unbuckled it.  With a cry of joy, Hanson threw back the sheet and shoved his hand underneath his white hospital gown.  Dennis stared in shock as Tom began to fondle himself whilst making soft mewing noises.

“Jesus,” Booker whispered, taking a few steps backwards as his eyes remained locked on Tom’s unabashed sexual display.  “Oh _Jesus_.”

The young nurse who had initially escorted Dennis to Tom’s room walked through the door and her hands flew up to her face.  “No, no, no!” she cried, rushing forward and pulling Hanson’s hand away.  “Hombre  malo!” _Bad man!_   Tom immediately lashed out, striking the young woman in the face.  Booker quickly stepped forward and grabbing hold of Tom’s arm, he brutally twisted his wrist to stop him moving.  

Tom cried out in pain and tears filled his dark eyes.  He gazed at Dennis in confusion, unable to comprehend why the man standing next to the bed was hurting him.  When Dennis strapped his arm back into the leather restraint, Tom began to sob uncontrollably.  Snot bubbled out of his nose as tears trickled down his dirty face.  The sight was so heart wrenching that Booker felt his own tears brimming.  Turning to the shocked nurse, he gave her a wan smile.  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t think he was that bad.  Are you okay?”

The nurse nodded.  “Sí,” she replied, rubbing her cheek.  Motioning towards the leather bindings, she shook her finger at Booker whilst shaking her head.  “No!” she instructed, narrowing her eyes into a hard stare.

“I won’t, I promise,” Booker answered softly.  Seemingly happy with Dennis’ response, the nurse left the room.

Turning his attention back to Tom, Booker took out his handkerchief and gently wiped Hanson’s nose.  Tom stared back at him with large doe eyes, his lower lip pushing into a soft pout.  The expression was so endearing that Booker could not help but smile.  Pulling the thin sheet back over Tom’s body, Dennis sat back down.  “I’m sorry I hurt you Tommy,” he apologized as he lightly stroked Tom’s matted hair.  “But you can’t hit people.”

Tom’s expression relaxed under the touch of Booker’s fingers.  “Tócame,” he murmured as his eyes became heavy.  Dennis had no clue what Tom was saying but as stroking his hair seemed to calm him, he continued to do it until Hanson once again, fell asleep.  



	4. Lost for Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I may not post new chapters until next week as hubby and I have a busy couple of days ahead :)**
> 
> _Previously: Turning his attention back to Tom, Booker took out his handkerchief and gently wiped Hanson’s nose. Tom stared back at him with large doe eyes, his lower lip pushing into a soft pout. The expression was so endearing that Booker could not help but smile. Pulling the thin sheet back over Tom’s body, Dennis sat back down. “I’m sorry I hurt you Tommy,” he apologized as he lightly stroked Tom’s matted hair. “But you can’t hit people.” Tom’s expression relaxed under the touch of Booker’s fingers. “Tócame,” he murmured as his eyes became heavy. Dennis had no clue what Tom was saying but as stroking his hair seemed to calm him, he continued to do it until Hanson once again, fell asleep._

**Lost for Words**  

Several hours passed in silence as Tom slept peacefully.  Booker heard the clatter of the meal trolley coming down the corridor and he watched as a young man walked in carrying a tray.  Setting it down on the table at the end of Hanson’s bed, the man nodded and left.  Booker stood up and surveyed the food.  There was a large bowl of hot sopa de verduras and a plate containing a panes rellenos.  Walking over to the door, he found the light switch and switched it on.  The hum of the fluorescent lighting broke the silence and bright light flooded the small room, causing Tom to moan as his eyes flickered open.  Booker pulled the table to the middle of the bed and smiled down at Hanson.  “Hungry?” he asked.

Tom stared back vacantly.   Dennis motioned to the food and Tom immediately nodded his head.  “Quiero,” he muttered softly, struggling to sit up but unable to do so because of the restraints.

Booker laid a calming hand on Tom’s arm.  “Wait,’ he instructed, as he figured out how to raise the top half of the bed so Tom could sit upright.  Finding the crank, Dennis raised Tom to a sitting position.  When he had the bed in place, he moved the table closer to Tom.  “I can’t untie you Tom,” he murmured when he saw Tom twisting his wrists in an attempt to get free.  “You’re going to have to let me feed you.”

Making no sign that he understood, Tom continued to try to break free.  Realizing that he was strapped tight, his expression became extremely stressed and he started to yell, “NO!  NO!  NO!”  

Remembering that he had calmed Tom through touch, Booker began to stroke Tom’s hair as his head thrashed from side to side.  “Shh,” he soothed.  “It’s okay Tommy, it’s okay.”

Slowly, Tom stopped yelling and he turned an adoring gaze towards Dennis.  “Quiero,” he whispered, nodding at the food.

Using one hand to stroke Tom’s hair, Booker used the other to spoon the hot soup carefully into Tom’s eager mouth.  “Hombre simpático,” Hanson muttered between spoonfuls.  _Nice man._

When the soup bowl was empty, Booker picked up the torta but Tom shook his head, indicating that he did not want it.  Suddenly realizing how hungry he was, Booker took a bite and within minutes, he had eaten the whole sandwich.  Looking back at Tom, he saw two sleepy eyes staring at him contentedly.  Sitting back down on the hard plastic chair, Dennis could not help but smile.  “Better?” he asked softly.

“Tócame,” Tom murmured, wanting Booker to touch him.  Not understanding the word but connecting it to when he had been stroking Tom’s hair, Booker immediately began to caress the top of Tom’s head.  Sighing happily, Hanson closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

**

It was almost 11pm when Booker finally left the hospital.  By the time he arrived at La Casa Hotel, he felt emotionally and physically drained.  Tossing his bag onto the double bed, he threw open the wide windows in an attempt to cool the stuffy room.  The chirping of thousands of cicadas sounded out over the still night air and he stood motionless for several minutes listening to the cacophony of noise.  Kicking off his boots, he stripped out of his sweaty clothes and walked into the bathroom.  He turned on the cold faucet and entered the cubicle, sighing contentedly as the cool water washed over his aching body.  Emerging several minutes later, he collapsed naked on top of the bed.  Looking at the clock, he calculated that it was too late to phone Penhall and fill him in on Tom’s condition.  When he had finally made contact with Doug after receiving Ben’s fax, Booker had found him subdued rather than excited as he had expected.  Dennis knew that guilt weighed heavily on Penhall’s mind but he had expected the officer to show some level of emotion at the news of Tom’s discovery.   Dennis wondered how much information he should divulge to Doug about Tom’s condition.  After thinking about it for over an hour, he concluded that it would be better for all concerned not to reveal too much about Hanson’s mental state.  Part of his reasoning was to protect Tom, he did not want everyone knowing about the rapes and how Tom now found comfort by being overtly sexual.  If Hanson was ever to recover fully, Booker knew his current behavior would cause him immense embarrassment.  The other reason not to disclose the full extent of Tom’s condition was to keep Doug’s guilt to a bare minimum, at least until Booker could fully assess how Hanson was recovering.  Dennis did not see any need to worry Penhall unnecessarily if Tom’s mental breakdown was only temporary.

Now that he had managed to get things clear in his mind, Booker finally began to relax.  Closing his eyes, he allowed the piercing song of the cicadas to lull him to sleep.

**

The  oppressive heat woke Dennis from a fitful slumber.  Staring at the clock, he moaned when he saw that it was only 4am.  He tried to fall back to sleep but after half an hour of tossing and turning, he resigned himself to an early start and climbed out of bed.  Walking into the bathroom, he relieved his bladder before turning on the shower.  Stepping under the tepid water, Booker’s thoughts turned to Tom and he allowed his hand to travel down to his cock.  He pushed the guilt aside and slowly started to fondle himself, enjoying the pleasure of his growing erection.  As he imagined Tom’s fingers wrapped around him, he let out a loud groan and began to tug harder.   A vision of Tom’s full lips sucking at his cockhead pushed Booker over the edge and with a cry, he ejaculated over his fingers.  His hand slowed as he enjoyed the aftermath of his orgasm.  Taking his time, he then lathered his body and washed his hair, finally stepping out of the shower twenty-five minutes later.  Rubbing himself dry, he walked naked into the bedroom and pulled out a clean t-shirt from his bag.  Dressing in the shirt and jeans, he pulled on socks and his boots and exited the room.  

Walking out into the humid morning air, Booker could smell the light fragrance of the Flor de Izote.  Looking around him, he noticed that El Volcán Café was open for business, so he crossed the road and entered the quaint establishment.  Ordering a cup of sweet coffee, he sat outside and watched as Ahuachapán slowly came to life.  Feeling hungry, he ordered a quesadilla, a second cup of coffee and a bottle of water.  He took his time eating, as it was still too early to visit Tom.  After paying the bill, he went back to his room and spoke to the hotel manager about placing a call to the States.  Using the telephone in the hotel’s office, he dialed Penhall’s number.  Listening to the soft burr of the phone ringing, Dennis gathered his thoughts.  A minute passed and he was just about to hang up when Doug’s flustered voice sounded down the line.  “Penhall!”

“Hey Doug, it’s Booker,” Dennis replied, trying to keep his voice light.

“Dennis, um… look I’m just about to drop Clavo off and I’m running late so…“ Doug’s voice trailed off when he realized how lame his excuse sounded.  “Sorry, that was stupid.  Of course I’ve got time to talk.  How was the trip?”

Booker was surprised that Penhall’s first question was not about Tom’s welfare.  Sighing heavily, he kept his temper in check.  “The trip was fine Penhall.  Look, I don’t have much time either, I’m using the hotel phone.  I just thought you’d want to know that I saw Tommy yesterday.”

A long silence followed Dennis’ statement and for a moment, he thought the call had been disconnected.  As he was about to speak, Doug’s voice whispered down the line.  “Is he okay?”

Booker thought for a moment before answering carefully.  “He’s… fragile and disorientated but considering everything he’s been through, the hospital says he’s in pretty good health.”

“Oh thank God,” Doug breathed, the relief evident in his voice.  “So, when are you bringing him home?”

Feeling guilty at the level of deception he was perpetrating, Booker was glad that Doug could not see his sheepish expression.  “I dunno, it’ll take some time to get his papers.  Maybe a week.”

“Okay.  Well, keep me posted,” Penhall replied before putting his hand over the mouthpiece and shouting something to Clavo.  “Look, I’ve gotta go.  I’ll speak to you soon.”

“Yeah,” Booker replied quietly.  “I’ll speak to you soon.”  Hanging up the phone, he paid the hotel manager enough to cover the cost of the call.  He felt disappointed at Doug’s lack of questioning about Tom’s condition, even though it made lying that much easier.  Raking his fingers through his dark hair, he walked up the stairs to his room.  Checking the clock, he decided to go to the hospital even if he had to wait to see Tom.  He grabbed his travel bag and picking up his car keys, he walked back down the stairs and out into the warm morning sun.  Climbing into the battered Toyota, he drove the short distance to see Tom.

**

Arriving at the hospital, Dennis found the nurses’ station vacant.  Deciding not to wait for permission, he entered Tom’s room.  Walking over to the window, he drew back the curtains and turned to greet Tom.  He emitted a loud cry when he saw the lower half of Hanson’s face covered in blood.  Running over, he let out an audible sigh of relief when he realized Tom had a blood nose.  Seeing the distress in his new friend’s eyes, he gently stroked Tom’s hair.  “It’s okay Tommy, you’ve had a blood nose.  I’m going to clean you up.”

Tom’s pathetic whimper caused a physical pain in Booker’s heart.  He could see Tom’s hands clenching and unclenching, trying to break free of the restraints and then a strong smell of urine assaulted Dennis’ nostrils as Hanson wet the bed.  “Oh Jesus,” Booker murmured, unable to keep the pity out of his voice.  Tears trickled down Tom’s face and he turned his head away.  Not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable, Dennis gently tilted Tom's face back towards him.  “Don’t worry,” he reassured quietly.  “I’ll sort it out.”

Walking back into the hallway, Booker found an English speaking nurse and angrily told her what had happened.  Apologizing profusely, she found a towel and some soap and after showing Dennis where Tom could take a shower, she returned with Dennis to Tom’s room and unhooked him from the heart monitor and removed the cannula in his arm.  When she had left, Booker hesitated for a moment before unfastening the straps around Hanson’s ankles.  He took in a deep breath when he saw the angry red marks encircling the bottom of Tom’s legs.  Moving up the bed, he stared down at Tom’s passive face.  “Are you going to be good for me Tommy?” he asked softly.  “No touching, okay?”

Hanson stared back but showed no sign that he understood Booker’s request.  Deciding to take it slow, Booker unstrapped the leather binding on Tom’s left wrist and waited to see what happened.  When Tom remained immobile, he unbuckled the second strap.  Hanson’s fingers picked at his sodden hospital gown but he did not attempt to touch himself in a sexual way.  Sighing with relief, Dennis helped Tom from the bed and escorted him down the corridor to the shower room.  Closing the door, he turned on the faucets and helped Tom out of the wet material.  “In you go,” he coaxed, nodding his head towards the cubicle.  “You’ll feel better after a shower.”

Tom remained where his was, his eyes filled with confusion.  Booker gently took hold of Tom’s arm and steered him towards the shower.  Hanson hesitated for a moment before stepping into the small cubicle.  He let out a gasp as the warm water washed over his filthy body and lifting his head, he allowed the water to wash the blood from his face.  Booker tried to pass him the soap but Tom ignored him, instead he closed his eyes and his hand grasped hold of his cock.  Dennis immediately looked away as Hanson began to masturbate under the warm water.  Although uncomfortable at being so close whilst Tom found his pleasure, Booker made the unorthodox decision to let Tom continue, in the hope that when he found his release he would be less obsessed with touching himself.  He tried to ignore the soft grunts coming from the shower and he shifted uncomfortably as his own cock began to swell.  As Tom neared his climax, he became vocal.  “Me gusta!  Me gusta!  Oh sí… sí… sí!  _Oh!  Oh!  Ohhh!”_   Hearing Hanson’s cry of pleasure sent a pleasant tingle down Booker’s spine.  

Pushing away all inappropriate thoughts, Dennis turned back around and saw that Tom was panting heavily.  Sensing that Booker was looking at him, Tom twisted his head and gave the ex cop a smile.  Dennis felt his heart melt and for a fleeting moment, he saw a glimmer of the old Tom Hanson.  Handing over the soap, he mimicked washing himself.  A glint of understanding flashed in Tom’s eyes and he began to lather up his body.  Booker sighed with relief.  He was not sure he could have coped if he had needed to wash Tom.  His aching erection pushed against the tight denim of his jeans and he longed to take himself in hand.  Shaking his head, he let mundane thoughts flood his mind in an effort to distract himself of all things sexual.  Closing his eyes, he was thinking about his P.I. business when wet fingers suddenly stroked the bulge in his jeans.  “Quiero?” Tom asked softly, as Booker jumped backwards.

“Jesus Christ!” Dennis exclaimed, swatting Tom’s hand away.  “No!  Do you hear me Tommy?  NO!”

A soft pout formed on Hanson’s lips and he looked just like a sulky child.  Taking a deep breath, Booker calmed himself.  “No touching Tommy, okay?” he rebuked softly.  “It’s not right.”  Tom’s eyes grew wide but he remained silent.  Reaching into the cubicle, Dennis turned off the faucets.  “C’mon,” he sighed, “Let’s get you dry.”

Hanson stepped out of the shower and allowed Booker to pat him dry.  Dennis winced when he saw the damage to Tom’s back and he took extra care when toweling his upper body.  Pulling out a pair of his own jeans, a t-shirt and some boxers out of the bag he had brought, he helped Tom to dress.  The jeans hung low on Hanson’s hips so Booker removed his belt and used it to pull in the waist of the denims.  Apart from his dirty, tangled hair and unshaven face, Tom looked almost like the man Dennis remembered.  

Returning to Tom’s hospital room, Booker found clean sheets on the bed and a breakfast tray on the table.  He helped Tom onto the gurney and then nodded at the food.  “There you go Tom, you can feed yourself this time,” he instructed.  Tom paused for a moment, his eyes searching Booker’s face.  Puzzled, Booker pushed the table closer.  “It’s okay Tommy, it’s your food, you can eat it.”

Another minute passed before Tom took a mouthful, his eyes warily staring at Dennis as though waiting for him to stop him.  When Booker remained silent, Hanson started shoveling in the tortillas, huevos picados, frijoles molidos and platanos fritos.  Grabbing the mug of coffee, he gulped it down in one go.  When he had finished he burped loudly before wiping his mouth on his arm and Booker did not know whether to laugh or cry at Tom’s primordial actions.  Lying back on the bed, Tom’s hand once again found his crotch and he began to massage himself through his denims.  Pinching the bridge of his nose, Booker contemplated what to do.  Finally, he gently pulled Tom’s hand away.  “No,” he instructed softly.  “Do you understand?  No.”

Tom smiled but as soon as Dennis let go of his arm he immediately started to touch himself again.  Not wanting to upset Tom too much, Booker decided not to make a scene.  He pushed the table to the end of the bed and making a supreme effort to look into Tom’s eyes rather than at the hand that had now found its way inside his jeans, Dennis managed a strained smile.  “I’m going to find a nurse and see when I can take you home.  Okay?”

Tom’s eyes gazed back dreamily.  Sighing, Booker left the room.  



	5. Obscured by Clouds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Returning to Tom’s hospital room, Booker found clean sheets on the bed and a breakfast tray on the table.  He helped Tom onto the gurney and then nodded at the food.  “There you go Tom, you can feed yourself this time,” he instructed.  Tom paused for a moment, his eyes searching Booker’s face.  Puzzled, Booker pushed the table closer.  “It’s okay Tommy, it’s your food, you can eat it.”_
> 
> _Another minute passed before Tom took a mouthful, his eyes warily staring at Dennis as though waiting for him to stop him.  When Booker remained silent, Hanson started shoveling in the tortillas, huevos picados, frijoles molidos and platanos fritos.  Grabbing the mug of coffee, he gulped it down in one go.  When he had finished he burped loudly before wiping his mouth on his arm and Booker did not know whether to laugh or cry at Tom’s primordial actions.  Lying back on the bed, Tom’s hand once again found his crotch and he began to massage himself through his denims.  Pinching the bridge of his nose, Booker contemplated what to do.  Finally, he gently pulled Tom’s hand away.  “No,” he instructed softly.  “Do you understand?  No.”_
> 
> _Tom smiled but as soon as Dennis let go of his arm he immediately started to touch himself again.  Not wanting to upset Tom too much, Booker decided not to make a scene.  He pushed the table to the end of the bed and making a supreme effort to look into Tom’s eyes rather than at the hand that had now found its way inside his jeans, Dennis managed a strained smile.  “I’m gonna find a nurse and see when we can take you home.  Okay?”_
> 
> _Tom’s eyes gazed back dreamily.  Sighing, Booker left the room._

**Obscured by Clouds**  

It had taken nearly two hours before a doctor finally came and spoke to Booker.  Doctor Rodriguez explained that the nosebleed was a symptom of snorting cocaine and that the soldiers often gave it to their captives to increase their sexual appetites.  He warned Booker to expect aggressive, violent behavior as Tom withdrew from the drug.  It was the doctor’s hope that Tom would eventually lose the desire to find comfort through sexual stimulation.  He suggested that Hanson receive a full medical as well as a psychological evaluation once he returned to the States.  Promising to send the blood test results through to Booker’s own doctor, Rodriguez gave Dennis a vial of sedatives and wishing him well, he left for his rounds.

Feeling completely unprepared for what lay ahead, Dennis wondered if he was doing the right thing by removing Tom from the hospital.  However, when he remembered Hanson tethered to the bed screaming wildly, he knew he had no choice.  He could at least provide round the clock care for Tom and he hoped that by being with another American, he would regain the use of the English language.

Walking back into Tom’s room, Booker gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile.  “C’mon Tommy, it’s time to leave.”

Putting the pills in his bag, Dennis held out his hand.  Tom stared at it suspiciously for a moment before giving a smile.  Grasping hold of Booker’s hand, Tom climbed from the bed and tugged eagerly as he pulled Dennis towards the door.  “At least you’re happy to be with me,” Booker muttered.  Steering Hanson in the right direction, they walked hand in hand out of the hospital.

Arriving back at La Casa Hotel, Booker unlocked the door and let Tom enter.  He watched in mild amusement as Tom gazed around the room as if it was the most luxurious hotel he had ever seen.  Dropping his bag on the bed, Booker rummaged through until he found the scissors he had borrowed from the hotel manager.  Walking into the bathroom, he filled the sink with hot water and pulled out his shaving kit.  Dennis called Tom’s name but when he did not come he re-entered the bedroom and found him staring out of the window in awe.  Booker wondered how long it had been since Tom had seen anything that resembled civilization.  It was common knowledge that the soldiers preferred the harsh habitat of the hills and jungles.  During the two years of his captivity, it was doubtful that Hanson had seen a town or many people.  His existence would have been a drug-induced nightmare of torture and rape.  Looking at him now, Booker felt tears welling in his eyes.  Tom had lost a part of his life that he could never get back and it pained Dennis to see the wonder in his eyes as he looked out onto the streets of Ahuachapán.  It was almost as though he was viewing the world below through a young child’s eyes.  

Moving forward, Booker placed a gentle hand on Tom’s shoulder.  Twisting around, Hanson’s eyes filled with fear but he instantly relaxed when he saw Dennis.  Pulling gently at Tom’s hair, Booker smiled.  “We need to get this rat’s nest off your head.”

Tom stared back with large uncomprehending eyes but he willing followed Booker.  Grabbing a chair from the bedroom, Dennis carried it into the bathroom and motioned for Tom to sit down.  When he saw the scissors in Dennis’ hand, Tom let out a strangled cry and immediately shrank away, covering his head with his arms.  For a horrible moment, Booker wondered what kind of torture Tom had experienced.  Squatting down so he was at eye level, Booker smiled kindly as he gently stroked Hanson’s hair.  “It’s okay, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Tom immediately reassured himself by shoving his hand into the waistband of his jeans.  Caressing Tom’s face, Booker gazed at him sadly.  “If _that_ makes you feel better Tommy, I’ll let you do it whilst I cut your hair.  But after that, you need to stop.  Okay?”

Tom did not answer.  Sighing heavily, Booker stood up and carefully started to cut the clumps of matted hair from Tom’s head.  He hoped he would not have to shave it completely but as the minutes passed, he soon realized that although it was a tedious process, he would be able to keep Tom’s hair at a reasonable length.  When he had finished cutting, he gently used a brush to untangle the remaining knots.  Although the cut was somewhat uneven, it was a vast improvement on how Tom looked before.  Happy with the result, Booker turned his attention to Tom’s facial hair.  He was surprised at how still Hanson sat whilst he wet shaved him with a razor.  Tenderly wiping the remaining shaving cream from his face, Booker smiled into the mirror at his and Tom’s reflection.  “So, what do you think?” he asked brightly.  

Looking intently into the mirror, Hanson ran a finger down his smooth cheek and smiled.  Gazing up at Booker affectionately, he murmured softly, “Hombre simpático.”

Not knowing the meaning of the word _simpático_ , Dennis just nodded.  He figured it was some sort of compliment by the tone of Tom’s voice.  Running his fingers lightly through Hanson’s hair, he grinned broadly.  “Once we give you a shampoo, you’ll be as good as new.”  Getting Tom to stand up, he turned the chair around so it was facing the opposite wall.  After emptying the soapy water in the sink, he turned on the faucets and checked the temperature before he motioned for Tom to sit back down and lean backwards so his head was in the basin.  Cupping the water over Tom’s hair, Booker applied shampoo and gently massaged it into his scalp.  Hanson’s eyes fluttered closed and he let out a relaxed sigh.  Dennis repeated the process several times and once he was convinced that Tom’s hair was clean, he turned off the faucets.  Gently toweling Tom’s wet hair, Booker then ran a comb through it before fluffing it up with his fingers.  Grinning, he helped Tom to his feet and showed him the finished product.

Tears welled in Tom’s dark eyes and turning abruptly, he threw his arms around Booker and gave him a tight squeeze.  Laughing aloud, Dennis returned the hug.  As they broke apart, Tom stared deep into Dennis’ eyes and without warning, he placed a hand behind Booker’s head and pulled him forward, kissing him passionately.  Completely thrown off guard, Dennis started to return the kiss before his senses kicked in and he quickly pulled apart.  Tom licked his lips and smiled seductively whilst Booker stared back open-mouthed, his heart hammering painfully in his chest.  Stepping backwards so he could put some distance between himself and Hanson, he rubbed his fingers nervously over his mouth.  “Jesus Tommy,” he murmured softly, the kiss still tingling on his lips.  “You really need to stop doing things like that.”

“Te gusta?”  Tom asked, tilting his head on one side and giving Booker a bewitching smile.

“I er… I um… I don’t know what that means,” Booker replied uneasily.

“Te gusta el beso?” Hanson muttered, his voice becoming agitated.  “Te _gusta_ el beso?” _You like the kiss?_

Sensing that Tom’s stress levels were rising, Booker tried to cool the situation.  “I don’t understand Tommy but it doesn’t matter, let’s just forget it.”

“NO, NO, _NO!”_ Hanson screamed, as he began to thump his fist into the side of his head.  “Quiero un beso!  Quiero un _BESO!”_ _I want a kiss!  I want a KISS!_

In a flash, Booker wrestled Tom’s hands behind his back in an effort to prevent him from hurting himself.  Hanson’s body thrashed violently back and forth but Dennis was too strong and he held him firm as he desperately tried to placate him.  “Shh Tommy.  Shh.  It’s okay.  Shh.  You’re all right, you just need to calm down.”

His body too weak to continue fighting, Tom collapsed sobbing against Dennis’ chest.  Pulling him in close, Booker murmured reassuringly against Hanson’s soft, clean hair.  Feeling Tom’s body relax against his arms, Dennis gently guided him into the bedroom and sat him on the bed.  Running his fingers through Tom’s hair, Booker smiled soothingly.  “Lie down Tommy, get some rest.”

Crawling into the middle of the bed, Tom tugged at the belt that was preventing his jeans from falling down.  Gazing beseechingly at Booker, he let out a pitiful whine.  Unable to resist Hanson’s distressed expression, Dennis went against his better judgment and leaning over, he unbuckled the belt.  Once free of the confining strap, Tom curled into a ball and sliding his hand comfortably into his waistband, he slowly started to tug at his cock.  Within minutes, his eyes were closed and his hand stilled as he fell into a deep sleep.

Bringing the chair back in from the bathroom, Booker sat down and fixed his gaze on Tom’s sleeping face.  It was obvious that Hanson’s mind was clouded in a thick fog of confusion and Dennis did not know how to help him.  His priority now was to get Tom back to the States so he could receive professional help.  But without papers, Hanson could not leave El Salvador and that meant getting him to the American Embassy in Antiguo Cuscatlán, an hour and a half’s drive away.  With Tom unpredictable behavior, Dennis knew he would probably have to sedate him in order to get him there without any upset.

Feeling tired from all the upheaval, Booker crossed his arms over his chest and closing his eyes, he willed himself into an uneasy slumber.

**

Waking an hour later, Booker stretched out in the chair and looked around the room.  He felt a shiver of fear run down his spine when he saw that Tom was no longer asleep on the bed.  Cursing loudly, he mentally berated himself for not taking the key out of the door.  If Tom had walked out and tried to go back into the jungle, Dennis knew he would have little chance of finding him again.  Jumping to his feet, he ran into the bathroom.  Finding it empty, he slammed his fist into the wall.  “YOU FUCKING _IDIOT!”_ he yelled, pulling at his hair in frustration.  Running back into the bedroom, he was about to grab his car keys and go look for Tom when he noticed an inch of blue denim poking out from under the bed.  Reaching down, he pulled out the jeans he had lent to Hanson.  Getting down on his hands and knees, he swiped under the bed and pulled out the black t-shirt Tom had been wearing.  Puzzled, he lay flat on his stomach and lifting up the valance, he peered under the bed.  He let out an audible sigh of relief when he saw Tom lying naked, one hand between his bent legs and the other underneath his face.  Suddenly the enormity of how Tom had survived during the last two years hit Booker hard.  There had not been any modern comforts in the jungle, just physical violence, sexual assaults and heart stopping terror.  

A sob caught in Dennis’ throat and covering his face with his hand, he wept uncontrollably for several minutes.  When his grief finally subsided, Booker crawled under the bed and lay next to Tom.  Placing a protective arm around Hanson’s waist, he gazed silently at the man who was slowly beginning to steal his heart.


	6. Echoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Waking an hour later, Booker stretched out in the chair and looked around the room.  He felt a shiver of fear run down his spine when he saw that Tom was no longer asleep on the bed.  Cursing loudly, he mentally berated himself for not taking the key out of the door.  If Tom had walked out and tried to go back into the jungle, Dennis knew he would have little chance of finding him again.  Jumping to his feet, he ran into the bathroom.  Finding it empty, he slammed his fist into the wall.  “YOU FUCKING IDIOT!” he yelled, pulling at his hair in frustration.  Running back into the bedroom, he was about to grab his car keys and go look for Tom when he noticed an inch of blue denim poking out from under the bed.  Reaching down, he pulled out the jeans he had lent to Hanson.  Getting down on his hands and knees, he swiped under the bed and pulled out the black t-shirt Tom had been wearing.  Puzzled, he lay flat on his stomach and lifting up the valance, he peered under the bed.  He let out an audible sigh of relief when he saw Tom lying naked, one hand between his bent legs and the other underneath his face.  Suddenly the enormity of how Tom had survived during the last two years hit Booker hard.  There had not been any modern comforts in the jungle, just physical violence, sexual assaults and heart stopping terror._
> 
> _A sob caught in Dennis’ throat and covering his face with his hand, he wept uncontrollably for several minutes.  When his grief finally subsided, Booker crawled under the bed and lay next to Tom.  Placing a protective arm around Hanson’s waist, he gazed silently at the man who was slowly beginning to steal his heart._

**Echoes**  

Having fallen into a light sleep, Booker awoke to see two dark eyes staring at him.  He gave Hanson a warm smile and stroked his hair.  “Are you okay Tommy?” he asked gently.

Without answering, Tom crawled out from under the bed.  Booker quickly followed, not wanting to let him out of his sight after his previous scare.  Picking up Tom’s discarded clothes, he handed them to Hanson.  “You need to get dressed.”

Hanson pouted heavily but did not resist when Dennis helped him into his clothes.  He struggled slightly against wearing the belt but he eventually gave in.  Once dressed, he walked over to the window and stared down at the busy street below, his expression transfixed.  Smiling at the wonder in Tom’s eyes, Booker checked the clock and realized it was late afternoon.  Watching Tom, he did not think he was emotionally stable enough to eat out in public so Dennis decided to get the food delivered.  

Walking over to window, he tapped Tom on the arm.  When Hanson ignored him, he did it again, this time calling his name.  When he still did not get a response, he placed both hands on Tom’s shoulders and physically turned him around.  “Hey,” he said forcefully.  “I’m talking to you.”

Hanson’s eyes flickered with fear at the tone of Booker’s voice and he immediately grabbed at his crotch, seeking comfort from the stimulation.  Sighing in frustration, Dennis pulled Tom’s hand away.  “No,” he admonished in a firm voice.

Tom’s lower lip protruded and he dropped his eyes to the floor.  The sight tore at Booker’s heart but he remained resolute.  Taking Tom by the hand, he led him over to the bed and motioned for him to sit down.  He then knelt on the floor in front of him and placing his hands on Tom’s thighs, he gazed deep into the troubled brown eyes.  “I need you to start communicating with me Tommy so I know what you need.  We’ll start slow.  Nod if you understand me.”

Giving no sign that he understood, Tom continued to stare back at Booker.  Dennis thought for a moment before lifting Tom’s hand and placing it against his chest.  “Dennis,” he said quietly, gazing deep into Tom’s eyes.  “ _Den-nis.”_

Tom’s lips silently sounded out the name.  “That’s right,” Booker encouraged.  “Den- _nis.”_

“Den- _nis,”_ Hanson murmured, a timid smile playing across his lips.  

Tears glistened in Booker’s eyes and he pulled Tom into a hug.  “Perfect,” he praised happily before pulling away and placing Tom’s hand against his own chest.  “Tommy,” he said slowly.

“Tom- _mee,_ ” Hanson replied without hesitation, his eyes searching Dennis’ face, desperately seeking approval.

“Brilliant!” Booker laughed, gently ruffling Tom’s hair.  Taking Hanson by the hand, he led him into the bathroom.  He pointed to the toilet and after saying the word twice, Tom repeated it.  Next, he pointed to the shower and smiling broadly, Tom echoed the word.  

Miming eating something and rubbing his stomach, Booker said slowly, “Hungry?”

Nodding, Tom rubbed his own stomach.  “Hung-gry,” he repeated.  “Quiero la comida.” _I want food._

“Quiero la comida?” Booker asked in confusion, not understanding what Hanson was saying.  “I’m sorry Tommy but my Spanish sucks.  Let’s try and use English okay?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Tom wandered back into the bedroom and resumed his observations at the window.  Booker called his name and Tom turned around.  Smiling, Dennis motioned to the door.  “I’m going to get some food,” he said, pretending to spoon something into his mouth.  “You stay here.”

“O-kay,” Tom muttered, returning his attention to the people on the street.  

Smiling with pride at the baby steps Hanson had taken, Dennis left the room, making sure to lock the door behind him.  When he arrived downstairs, he sought out the hotel manager and asked about getting food delivered to their room.  Carlos immediately phoned through an order to a restaurant down the road and told Booker he would bring it to their room when it arrived.  Handing over enough colónes to cover the food plus a tip, Dennis was walking back up the stairs when a thought occurred to him.  “Hey Carlos,” he called to the hotel manager.  “What does _quiero la comida_ mean?”

“Want food,” the manager replied in broken English.

The words played through Booker’s mind.  “So does _quiero_ mean want?”

“Sí señor,” Carlos replied.

Thinking back over the last twenty-four hours, Booker began to comprehend what Tom had been trying to tell him.  “Does _tócame_ mean touch?” he asked.  When Carlos nodded Dennis thanked him and walked slowly back up the stairs.  Unlocking the door, he found Tom exactly where he had left him, standing at the window gazing at the street below.  The only difference was that Tom’s jeans were now around his ankles and his hand was down the front of his boxers.  Armed with the tools he needed, Booker strode purposely over to the window and yanked Hanson’s hand away.  “NO TÓCAME!” he commanded in a loud voice.  “NO TOUCHING!”

Giving Booker a filthy look, Tom pulled his arm from Dennis’ grasp.  “Quiero!” he snapped back, as his fingers played over his semi erect cock that was bulging through his boxers.

“NO!” Dennis yelled, slapping Tom’s hand away.  “You can’t keep doing this Tom.  It’s something you only do in private.”

A slow impish smile spread across Tom’s face and stepping forward, he gazed deep into Booker’s eyes.  “Den- _nis_ lo quiere?” _Dennis wants it?_   he asked in a soft voice, reaching out and lightly squeezing Booker’s cock.  “Den- _nis_ le gusta?” _Dennis likes?_

For a fraction of a second, Booker allowed himself to feel Tom’s long fingers intimately touching him in the way he had desired for so long.  However, he knew if he allowed Tom to continue he would be taking advantage of a fragile damaged man who under normal circumstances, would be horrified at the act he was committing.  Taking hold of Tom’s wrist, Booker gently moved his hand away.  “No Tommy,” he replied quietly.  “Dennis no quiere.”

Tilting his head on one side, Tom gave Booker a quizzical look as though he could not believe that Dennis did not want to be touched.  Reaching down, Hanson pulled up his jeans and clumsily buckled the belt around his narrow waist.  Booker smiled broadly to show that he was pleased with Tom and he received a wide smile in return.

A knock at the door signaled that their food had arrived.  Booker tipped Carlos and after thanking the hotel manager, he closed the door and carried the food into the middle of the room.  As there was no table in the room, Booker sat on the floor and motioned for Tom to do the same.  Unpacking the Salvadoran cuisine, he looked at Tom.  “Food,” he said, pointing to the wrapped packages.

“Food,” Tom replied, rubbing his stomach.  “Quiero.”

Booker laughed.  “I would like some food,” he enunciated slowly.

Chewing on his lower lip for a moment, Tom parroted back Dennis words.  “Very good,” Booker praised, passing Tom his panes rellenos.  Once again, Hanson made no effort to eat until Booker assured him that the food was his.  Watching Tom hungrily devour his sandwich, Dennis tried to imagine what life had been like for the young police officer during his time in captivity.  It was obvious that he had performed sexual acts in return for food and probably as a way of survival.  The soldiers had kept Tom for over two years, which proved to Dennis that they felt having Tom around was a worthwhile risk.  It made Booker nauseous to think of the men raping Tom day after day until it became nothing more than routine to the young American.  Considering everything Tom had endured, it was somewhat of a miracle that he was functioning as well as he was.  Booker was sure that in time, Tom’s language skills would return and once he was back in the States he would begin to adapt to a more normal way of life.

Finishing his sandwich, Tom rubbed at his eyes.  “Tommy tiene sueño,” he murmured.  _Tommy sleepy._

“Are you tired?” Booker asked.

“Den- _nis_ tiene sueño?” Hanson inquired, taking hold of Booker’s hand and leading him over to the bed.

“Not really,” Booker laughed.  “But you lie down and have a sleep and I’ll read through some case notes I brought with me.”

Jutting out his lower lip, Tom tugged impatiently at Dennis’ arm.  “Quiero Den- _nis_.  Den- _nis_ tócame,” he whined as he stroked at his own hair.

Understanding that Hanson wanted him to stroke his hair whilst he fell asleep, Booker smiled softly.  “Okay, but let me get my notes.”

When Tom started to strip off his clothes, Booker prevented him from removing his boxers.  “No,” he said quietly.  “You have to leave those on.”

Initially looking like he was about to protest, Tom paused for a moment before shrugging his shoulders reluctantly.  He stood staring at Booker, waiting for him to undress also.  Flushing slightly, Dennis kicked off his boots and removed his socks, t-shirt and jeans.  Smiling, Tom led him over to the bed.  Lying on his side on top of the covers, Tom patted the bed next to him.  Nervous about Hanson’s intentions, Booker lay on his back, leaving a large space between himself and Tom.  Groaning impatiently, Tom shuffled over until he lay snuggled up close to Dennis.  Laying his head on Booker’s chest, he lifted Dennis’ hand and placed it on top of his head.  Overcome with emotion, Booker blinked back tears as his fingers lightly played with Tom’s hair.  He heard Hanson sigh contentedly and within minutes, he could hear soft breathing as Tom fell soundly asleep.  

Ignoring his paperwork, Booker gazed down at Tom’s tranquil face.  He still marveled at how unbelievably beautiful Tom was and now that he was so fragile, Booker wanted to love and protect him more than ever.  He knew that to give Tom the best chance of recovery, he needed to get him safely back to America so he could begin the long, slow journey of healing his damaged mind.

As Hanson moaned in his sleep, Booker held him protectively, vowing silently to himself that he would not allow anymore harm to come to Thomas James Hanson.

**

Booker slept fitfully, as Tom’s restlessness woke him constantly throughout the night.  Now that he was no longer sedated, Hanson twitched and groaned in his sleep, occasionally crying out quietly, as though too afraid to vocalize the terror of his nightmares.  Dennis stroked his hair and murmured soothing words until he again settled down.  

As  the early morning sun rose over the mountains, Booker finally fell into a deep sleep.  His dreams were vivid and colorful and he let out a soft groan.  He and Tom were lying in bed in his apartment, their bodies entwined in a tangle of sweaty sheets.  Tom’s fingers played with Booker’s growing erection, expertly bringing his cock to life.  As Hanson’s fingers caressed and tugged at his throbbing cock, Dennis’ hips rose off the bed and his hands grasped wildly at the sheets.  “Harder,” he muttered, “Oh God Tommy, _harder!_ ”

“Quieres  lefa Den- _nis?”_ Tom asked softly, his hand working over Booker’s cock.  _Dennis want to come?_

Confused by the Spanish words that echoed within his dream, Booker felt his mind slowly retreating from his fantasy.  As consciousness returned him to reality, he felt Tom’s long fingers lightly tugging at his early morning erection.  “Oh God!” he cried out, the exquisite pleasure almost too much to bear.  “Oh _Jesus!”_

Tom’s soft brown eyes gazed joyfully into Dennis’ bewildered face.  “Den- _nis_ le gusta?” he asked, his hand working faster.  “Quieres  lefa Den- _nis?”_

Feeling his orgasm rising, Booker was powerless to prevent Tom from bringing him to release.  “ _Oh_ fuck!  _Oh_ Tommy!  _Oh_ Jesus!  No!  No!  Oh God, _YESSS!”_   Semen shot over his stomach and covered Tom’s fingers.  Overcome by shame, Dennis threw an arm over his face and started to sob.  “Oh Tommy! I’m sorry… I’m so fucking _sorry!”_

Hanson’s hand stilled.  “Den- _nis_ no gusta?” he asked in a sad voice.  _Dennis no like?_

Dropping his arm, Booker wiped the tears from his eyes before gently cupping Tom’s face in his hand.  “If you’re asking if I liked it, of _course_ I liked it but you can’t do this Tommy, it’s just fucking wrong.  Do you understand?  It’s _wrong!_   You would _never_ have done something like this before and I can’t take advantage just because I fantasize about doing these things with you.”

Staring back, Tom replied simply, “Dennis no quiere?”

Booker sighed with relief, thankful that Hanson understood.  “Yes Tommy, Dennis no quiere.”

Tom shook his head in puzzlement, as if he could not understand why Dennis was rejecting his offer to pleasure him.  “O-kay,” he agreed somewhat reluctantly.

Grateful that Tom had not argued with him, he swung his legs over the bed and stood up.  “I’m going to take a shower.  You stay here.”

Nodding, Tom closed his eyes and slid his hand into his boxers.  Dennis stood for a moment, silently watching Hanson masturbate before turning away and walking into the bathroom.


	7. A Great Day for Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Feeling his orgasm rising, Booker was powerless to prevent Tom from bringing him to release.  “Oh fuck!  Oh Tommy!  Oh Jesus!  No!  No!  Oh God, YESSS!”  Semen shot over his stomach and covered Tom’s fingers.  Overcome by shame, Dennis threw an arm over his face and started to sob.  “Oh Tommy! I’m sorry… I’m so fucking sorry!”_
> 
> _Hanson’s hand stilled.  “Den-nis no gustó?” he asked in a sad voice.  Dennis no like?_
> 
> _Dropping his arm, Booker wiped the tears from his eyes before gently cupping Tom’s face in his hand.  “If you’re asking if I liked it, of course I liked it but you can’t do this Tommy, it’s just fucking wrong.  Do you understand?  It’s wrong!  You would never have done something like this before and I can’t take advantage just because I fantasize about doing these things with you.”_
> 
> _Staring back, Tom replied simply, “Dennis no quiere?”_
> 
> _Booker sighed with relief, thankful that Hanson understood.  “Yes Tommy, Dennis no quiere.”_
> 
> _Tom shook his head in puzzlement, as if he could not understand why Dennis was rejecting his offer to pleasure him.  “O-kay,” he agreed somewhat reluctantly._
> 
> _Grateful that Tom had not argued with him, he swung his legs over the bed and stood up.  “I’m going to take a shower.  You stay here.”_
> 
> _Nodding, Tom closed his eyes and slid his hand into his boxers.  Dennis stood for a moment, silently watching Hanson masturbate before turning away and walking into the bathroom._

**A Great Day for Freedom**  

Jarred by the morning’s sexual encounter with Tom, Dennis made the decision to drive to the American Embassy in Antiguo Cuscatlán that day so he could start the process of getting Hanson’s passport.  Whilst Tom was showering, he placed a call to Ben Halley and asked him to meet them at the _Embajada_ _de los Estados Unidos_ at midday.  It was a one-and-a-half hour drive from Ahuachapán and Booker hoped that if government soldiers stopped them, they would not query Tom’s fake identification.  However, even if they did, he knew it was a risk he had to take, as there was no chance of Tom leaving El Salvador without the help of the American Embassy.

Hearing the faucets turn off, Dennis knocked on the bathroom door and entered.  Tom was carefully drying his scarred body and Booker once again felt anger welling inside him.  Not wanting Hanson to sense his rage, he gave a large, fake smile.  “Hey Tommy, you’re going to have to use my toothbrush, is that okay?” he asked.

Tom grinned and stared back with large trusting eyes.  This time Booker returned a genuine smile.  “You haven’t got a clue what I’m saying have you?” he laughed.  Tom shrugged and waited for Dennis to instruct him.  Squirting toothpaste over the head of the toothbrush, Booker handed it to Hanson.  Without any need for further coaching, Tom began to brush his teeth.  Booker walked back out into the bedroom and waited until Tom joined him.  When Tom wandered out of the bathroom, he handed him his boxers, t-shirt and jeans, which he dutifully put on, including the belt.  Booker did not have any shoes for Tom but he figured that they would be in the car so it did not matter.  Taking the vial of sedatives out of his bag, he read the instructions and decided one tablet would be enough to keep Tom calm.  “Here,” he said, handing the pill to Hanson.  “You need to take this.”

Tom eyed him suspiciously and refused to take the pill.  “C’mon Tommy, it’s just to relax you on the drive to Antiguo Cuscatlán.  You know I’d never give you anything that would hurt you,” Booker coaxed.

“No,” Tom replied moodily as his fingers rubbed at his crotch.  “No  quiero dormir.”  _Don’t want to sleep._

Booker was surprised that Tom understood what the pills would do.  Up until now, he had not questioned what Booker had asked of him and although it was a positive sign that Hanson still had a mind of his own, for Dennis, it could not have come at a worse time.  He could not imagine sitting on a plane with Tom constantly touching himself and he was sure there would be complaints from the other passengers.  Deciding that he would have to be more furtive in future, Booker smiled.  “Okay Tommy, no pills,” he replied.  “But there will be _no tócame_ in the car, understand?  No touching.”

“No… touch…ing,” Tom repeated slowly, his expression solemn.  

Packing up the few belongings lying around the room, Booker motioned towards the door.  “C’mon, let’s get some food before we hit the road.”

Tom rubbed his stomach.  “Food,” he mimicked quietly, grinning self-consciously.

Booker smiled and ruffled Tom’s hair.  “Very good.  You’ll be speaking English again in no time.”

Smiling shyly, Tom placed one hand against Dennis’ cheek and the other over his own heart.  “Te quiero Den- _nis_ ,” he murmured.  “Tu me quieres?”  _Dennis I love you.  You love me?_

A delightful shiver ran down Dennis’ spine.  Although he did not completely comprehend what Tom was saying he could tell by the look in the young American’s eyes that he was asking if he had feelings for him.  Mirroring Tom’s actions, he placed one hand over his heart and the other against Hanson’s pale face.  “Sí Tommy,” he whispered, his eyes brimming with tears.  “I _LOVE_ you and I won’t let anything bad happen to you, you’re safe with me.”

“Love… you,” Tom muttered, patting Dennis’ face gently with his hand.  Turning away, he picked up Booker’s bag and walked to the door.  “Vámonos!” he commanded, opening up the door.  _Let’s go!_ “Food!”

Laughing, Booker followed Tom out of the room.  He was pleased to see Tom becoming more assertive and vocalizing his wants and needs but he could not help but wonder how difficult the transition would be for Tom once he was finally back in America.  He had spent two years living a primitive lifestyle deep in a hostile jungle with only violent men for company.  Suddenly being thrust back into a civilized world where bad manners and offensive behavior were frowned upon would be confusing for Tom.  He had survived by using his wits and selling his body for comfort and food.  Booker could only hope that once he left El Salvador, Tom would begin to remember how his life had been and slowly he would be able to repress the bad memories and look towards a brighter future where rape and violence were no longer a normal part of his life.

**

After eating a filling breakfast, Booker settled Tom into the passenger seat of the battered Toyota and climbed in beside him.  Handing Hanson two bottles of water, he smiled encouragingly.  “We’ve got a bit of a drive but I’ll stop whenever you want me to, okay?  Do you know what _stop_ means?”

Tilting his head on one side, Tom thought about Booker’s question for a moment before holding his palm out in front of him.  “Stop!” he said in a loud voice.

Dennis grinned.  “Sí!  Very good Tom.  You say STOP! when you want me to stop.”

“O-kay,” Hanson replied happily.  “Vámonos!”

Starting up the car, Dennis pulled out into the light morning traffic.  Once out of the city and traveling back down the hills that circled Ahuachapán, the journey east was far quicker than Booker expected.  Government soldiers stopped them ten miles out of Antiguo Cuscatlán and Dennis was grateful that the humidity masked the perspiration that covered his body whilst he waited for the soldier to tell them that they could continue.  The small, wiry man glared at Tom then back to the fake document in his hand.  Feeling threatened, Tom’s hand went to his crotch and he began to rub at his cock whilst making soft mewing noises.  Afraid that the soldier would become suspicious, Booker gently took Hanson’s hand and gave his fingers a squeeze.  The soldier peered into the car and grinned, revealing several rotting teeth.  “Ah, homosexual Americanos,” he laughed, winking at Booker before handing back their paperwork.  His eyes traveled up and down Hanson’s body before settling on his face.  “Él es bonito,” the soldier breathed, licking his lips teasingly.  _He is nice_

Seeing the terror in Tom’s eyes, Dennis knew the man was making a suggestive remark.  Keeping an outward calm, he smiled pleasantly, whilst inside, he wanted to slam his fist into the soldier’s decaying teeth.  “Are we done?” he asked, holding out his hand for their paperwork.

The man hesitated for a moment before passing the documentation through the window.  “Sí,” he replied, waving them through.  

Releasing Tom’s hand, Booker put the car in gear and drove slowly through the roadblock.  Once out of sight of the soldiers, he pulled over and turned to Hanson who was once again stroking at his cock through his jeans.  “Hey,” Dennis said quietly, taking Tom’s hand and holding it gently.  “It’s okay.  _We’re_ okay.  Understand?  I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Tom gave a timid smile.  “O-kay Den- _nis_ ,” he murmured.  “Bésame,” he instructed, pointing to his cheek.

Booker’s heart fluttered and leaning over, he pressed his lips gently against the angry red scar running down Tom’s cheek.  “All better?” he asked softly.

“All bet-ter,” Tom mimicked, a slow smile playing across his lips.

Feeling as though he was getting into dangerous territory, Booker nodded quickly and checking behind him, he pulled back out onto the narrow road for the final stage of their journey.

**

Stopping out front of the _Embajada de los Estados Unidos_ , Booker spotted Ben Halley sitting in a large white Cadillac.  Turning off the engine, he climbed out of the car and rolled his neck from side to side.  Although not a long journey, he had felt tense from the moment they left Ahuachapán.  Now that he was on the steps of the American Embassy, he felt a flood of relief rush through his body.  He watched as Ben got out of his car and walked over.  Shaking his friend’s hand, Dennis opened the passenger door and squatting down, he gently smiled at Tom.  “We’re almost home Tommy,” he said happily.  “Come out and meet Ben, we’ve got a lot to thank him for.”

Standing up, Dennis held out his hand and helped Hanson from the car.  Turning to Ben, he could not keep the tears from trickling down his cheeks.  “Ben, you remember Tom,” he choked, turning his head away with embarrassment.

Smiling his wide smile, Ben held out his hand.  “I’m happy to meet you again Officer Hanson,” he replied, his own eyes glistening with tears.

Tom stared at Ben quizzically for a long moment, before taking his hand and shaking it lightly.  “Ben,” he said quietly, “Ye shall know the truth and it shall set you free.”

Spinning around, Dennis stared at Tom open-mouthed.  “ _What_ did you just say?” he spluttered, not trusting his own ears.

Tom remained silent, staring off into space as though nothing unusual had happened.  Booker grabbed at Ben’s arm.  “You heard that, right?  He just recited the fucking CIA’s motto.”

Halley looked just as startled as Dennis.  “He said it to me the first night we met in San Salvador,” he replied quietly.  “He and Penhall picked me as an agent straight away.  I can’t believe he remembered me after all this time.”

“But it’s a good sign, it means he’s starting to remember,” Booker stated excitedly.  “Oh God Ben, this is what I’ve been waiting for!”

“Whoa,” Halley replied, laying a large hand on Dennis arm.  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.  Tom still has a long way to go before he’s the man you and I remember, if he ever is at all.  Don’t put too much pressure on him Denny, he needs to be handled gently and by professionals.”

Booker pulled his arm away impatiently.  “I _know_ that Ben but for fuck’s sake, let me enjoy the moment!”

Ben nodded slowly.  “Okay, enjoy the moment but just remember, it could be months or maybe years before you ever see a glimmer of the old Tom Hanson.”

Halley’s words immediately deflated Dennis’ jubilant mood.  Looking over at Tom who was staring innocently into the distance, Booker knew that it would be a very long time before he again saw the man he had originally fallen for, all those years ago.  



	8. Stop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Tom stared at Ben quizzically for a long moment, before taking his hand and shaking it lightly.  “Ben,” he said quietly, “Ye shall know the truth and it shall set you free.”_
> 
> _Spinning around, Dennis stared at Tom open-mouthed.  “What did you just say?” he spluttered, not trusting his own ears._
> 
> _Tom remained silent, staring off into space as though nothing unusual had happened.  Booker grabbed at Ben’s arm.  “You heard that, right?  He just recited the fucking CIA’s motto.”_
> 
> _Halley looked just as startled as Dennis.  “He said it to me the first night we met in San Salvador,” he replied quietly.  “He and Penhall picked me as an agent straight away.  I can’t believe he remembered me after all this time.”_
> 
> _“But it’s a good sign, it means he’s starting to remember,” Booker stated excitedly.  “Oh God Ben, this is what I’ve been waiting for!”_
> 
> _“Whoa,” Halley replied, laying a large hand on Dennis arm.  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.  Tom still has a long way to go before he’s the man you and I remember, if he ever is at all.  Don’t put too much pressure on him Denny, he needs to be handled gently and by professionals.”_
> 
> _Booker pulled his arm away impatiently.  “I know that Ben but for fuck’s sake, let me enjoy the moment!”_
> 
> _Ben nodded slowly.  “Okay, enjoy the moment but just remember, it could be months or maybe years before you ever see a glimmer of the old Tom Hanson.”_
> 
> _Halley’s words immediately deflated Dennis’ jubilant mood.  Looking over at Tom who was staring innocently into the distance, Booker knew that it would be a very long time before he again saw the man he had originally fallen for, all those years ago._

**Stop**  

The air conditioning hummed loudly inside the brightly lit office within the American Embassy building.  Booker chewed nervously on his lower lip as the middle-aged consular official slowly re-read the paperwork Dennis had provided which included Hanson’s birth certificate and letters from the Police Commissioner and the Mayor confirming Tom’s employment in the now defunct Jump Street program.  Tom stood at the window, staring silently out at the busy street below.  Dennis was grateful for Tom’s placid state of mind but he still felt nervous and jumpy and he glanced anxiously at Ben, who gave him a reassuring smile.  After what seemed like an eternity, the official laid the paperwork back on his desk and cleared his throat before speaking.  “You say he was missing for _two_ years?”

Dennis scowled, tiredness and frustration causing his temper to rise.  “For the twentieth time, _YES!_   This is bullshit!  How many times do I have to repeat the story for you to believe me?”

“Steady Dennis,” Ben advised as he placed a calming hand on Booker’s arm.  “They have to be thorough.  They can’t just issue paperwork on your say-so.”

Screwing his eyes closed and pinching the bridge of his nose, Dennis mentally counted to ten in an effort to calm himself.  When he opened his eyes, he saw Tom staring at him, a worried expression on his beautiful face.  In an effort to allay Hanson’s fears, Booker gave him what he hoped was a comforting smile but Hanson was not that easily fooled and his frown deepened.  Concerned that Tom might once again begin to reassure himself through sexual stimulation, Booker stood up and joined Hanson by the window.  Placing his hand against Tom’s cheek, he smiled as his thumb gently caressed his soft skin.  “Don’t worry Tommy,” he crooned tenderly, “There’s nothing to be afraid of.  I’m just a little tired, that’s why I raised my voice.”

“Den- _nis_ es triste?” Tom asked quietly, mirroring Dennis’ actions by stroking his face.

Booker turned to Ben for a translation.  “He’s asking if you’re sad,” Halley explained.

Returning his gaze to Tom, Dennis shook his head.  “No Tom, I’m not sad, just tired.”

“Dennis está cansado,” Ben addressed Tom.

“Oh,” Hanson replied.  Happy with Ben’s explanation, he resumed his scrutiny of the activity outside the window.  “O-kay.”

Sitting back down, Booker gave the consular official a hard stare.  “We’ve been here for over five hours and talked to three different people, at least tell me if you’re going to help us.”

The man looked over at Tom and studied him for many minutes before replying.  “It will take a few days but I’ll start the paperwork to issue Mr. Hanson a new passport.  In the meantime I can recommend a hotel for you to stay at.”

Booker’s shoulders relaxed and he let out an audible sigh of relief.  “Thank you,” he muttered softly.

Getting out of his chair, Dennis once again joined Tom by the window.  Placing a hand against Hanson’s jaw, he gently turned Tom’s face towards him.  “We’re going home Tommy,” he murmured, his eyes bright with tears.  “Then we can get you the help you need.”

“We’re go-ing home,” Tom pronounced slowly, his eyes staring at Booker in puzzlement.

“Dennis y te vas a casa a los Estados Unidos,” Ben responded with a smile.  _You and Dennis are going home to the United States._

“A los Estados Unidos?” Tom asked, his eyes wide with excitement.

“Sí,” Booker replied happily.  “A los Estados Unidos,”

Tom grinned happily.  “Home,” he murmured.  “Nos vamos _home_.”

**

Ben made the decision to drive back to San Salvador but he promised that he would return to see them off at the airport once they had their flights confirmed.  Dennis found the hotel the embassy official had recommended and booked in on a day-by-day basis.  Unlocking the door, he followed Tom into the tastefully decorated room.  Throwing his bag onto the bed, he let out a loud groan as he rolled his shoulders in an effort to relax his tense muscles.  Hanson immediately turned around, his expression concerned.   “Den- _nis_ o-kay?” he asked quietly.

Genuinely touched by Tom’s concern, Booker smiled.  “I’m fine Tommy, just tired and stiff.  Maybe I’ll take a shower.”

“Show-wer,” Tom repeated, nodding solemnly.  

Hanson’s serious tone made Dennis laugh and he gave Tom a hug.  Pulling away, he gazed deep into Tom’s trusting eyes.  “God, I’m so glad I found you,” he murmured into Tom’s hair. 

Grinning happily, Tom kissed Dennis on the cheek before moving over to the window so he could watch the activity on the busy streets below.  Booker’s fingers lightly played over the area where Tom’s lips had been and he felt a shiver of desire run through his body.  The more time he spent with Tom, the harder it was to keep his own yearnings under control.  

Kicking off his boots, he walked into the bathroom.  Pulling his damp t-shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor, he studied his reflection in the mirror above the sink.  He ran a finger over the dark smudges under his eyes, a symptom of his lack of sleep over the last few days.  Stripping off the rest of his clothes, he stepped into the large shower cubicle and turned on the faucets.  As the warm water ran over his body, he felt his muscles relax and he sighed contentedly.  Closing his eyes, he ducked his head and let the healing warmth relieve his aching body as his fingers lazily played with his cock.  So lost in the therapeutic effects of the warm water and his own sexual pleasure as his fingers teased his cock to life, Dennis did not hear Tom enter the bathroom.  It was only when he felt a cool breeze against his skin as the shower curtain opened, that he looked up with a start to see Hanson standing naked beside him.  “Tommy show-wer?” Tom asked, his eyes full of innocence.

“Oh God,” Booker moaned softly, the sight of Tom standing wide-eyed and naked making his cock swell even more.  

Looking down at Dennis’ erection, Tom smiled knowingly.  “Tommy ayudar Den- _nis_ lefa?”  _Tommy help Dennis come?_

Although not completely understanding Tom’s words, Booker could read his body language.  His mind screamed _Yes!  Yes!  Yes!_   as he imagined Hanson’s hand wrapped around his throbbing cock.  However, he had allowed himself to give into his desire once already and he had vowed that he would not take advantage of Tom’s fragile mental state again.  Releasing his cock, he stared back at Hanson and shook his head.  “No Tommy, I don’t.”

Without asking for permission, Tom stepped into the shower cubicle and stood next to Booker under the cascading water.  Staring deep into Dennis’ eyes, he reached down and started to tug at his own cock.  “Tommy quiere lefa,” he murmured softly.  _Tommy wants to come._

“Jesus Tommy, don’t,” Dennis breathed, unable to avert his eyes from Tom’s growing erection.

“Tommy le gusta,” Tom moaned, his eyes never leaving Booker’s gaze as his hand tugged and fondled his cock.  _Tommy likes._

“Stop,” Booker whispered, but it was a perfunctory command and Hanson showed no signs that he had heard the request.  

Instead, his hand quickened and he began to pant.  “Se siente tan bien,” he groaned loudly.   “Oh Dios, se siente tan bien!”  _Oh God, it feels so good!_

Booker remained paralyzed and although he had stopped masturbating, his cock continued to swell at the sight of Tom’s mounting pleasure.  He knew he should call a halt to Tom’s erotic display of self-gratification, especially because he was gaining his own pleasure from watching the sensual scene unfold.  But he was now past the point of being able to stop Tom, even if he wanted to.  Hanson’s voice became louder as his orgasm rose.  “Aah… aah… aah… me gusta!  Me gusta!  Oh sí!  Oh sí!  Oh _sííí!" I like!  I like!  Oh yes!  Oh yes!  Oh yesss!_

Tom’s body shuddered as he ejaculated over his fingers.  The uninhibited display of sexual gratification pushed Dennis over the edge and grabbing his cock, he brought himself to climax with two quick strokes.  Shame immediately overwhelmed him and a sob caught in his throat when he looked up and saw Tom’s serene face smiling happily.  Shoving Hanson violently against the wall, he exited the shower and wrapping a towel around his waist, he stormed into the bedroom.  A moment later Tom entered the room, his expression bewildered.  “Den- _nis?”_ he queried, laying a hand on Booker’s shoulder.

Dennis spun around, his face contorted in anger.  “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” he yelled, spittle flying from his lips.  “WHY DO YOU KEEP DOING THIS?”

Distressed by Booker’s rage, Tom dropped to the floor and covered his head with his arms.  “Lo siento!  Por favor no me hagas daño!”  _I’m sorry!  Please don’t hurt me!_

Seeing the terror on Tom’s face, Dennis’ fury quickly evaporated.  Dropping to his knees, he attempted to pull Tom into a hug but Hanson cried out in fear and scurried away on his hands and knees.  When he attempted to crawl under the bed, Dennis held onto his ankles, causing Tom to scream hysterically as his legs kicked out, connecting painfully with Booker’s body.  “NO!  NO!  NO!” he yelled, frantically breaking free and scuttling over to the corner of the room and curling into a protective ball.

Frightened by Tom’s reaction, Dennis immediately stopped moving.  “Shh Tommy, it’s okay.  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

A soft whimpering sounded from the corner of the room and Dennis felt a painful stabbing in his heart.  He had verbally attacked a mentally frail man because of his own guilt and humiliation at being unable to control his urges.  He knew it was his own fault for not stopping Tommy when he first entered the shower and he felt nothing but shame for how he had behaved.  For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, he had taken advantage of Tom’s unabashed sexual promiscuity.  He wondered if he was damaging Tom further and he briefly considered admitting him back into hospital.  But he quickly pushed the thought away when he remembered the sight of Tom tethered to a bed, thrashing frantically in an effort to break free from his bindings.  If he could only get through the next few days without being enticed by Tom’s advances, he would be able to help Tom by finding the best facility in the States to help him overcome his mental traumas.

Moving slowly across the floor on his hands and knees so as not to startle Tom, Booker stopped when he was about a foot from where Hanson sat huddled.  Sitting cross-legged, he spoke in a low, calm voice.  “I really am sorry Tommy.  It was my fault, I know you can’t help it.”

“Bastardo!” Tom spat, kicking out viciously.  His foot connected with Dennis’ groin and he doubled over in pain, a loud _oomph_ escaping from his lips.  Excruciating pain flared in Booker’s body and a wave of nausea washed over him.  Tears filled his eyes and he panted heavily as he tried to regain his breath.  Unable to move, he groaned loudly, his hands protectively covering his crotch in case Tom decided on a second onslaught.  Instead, he felt a hand clumsily stroking his hair.  “Lo siento Den- _nis!”_ Tom sobbed.

Blinking back his tears, Dennis lifted his head a managed a watery smile.  “It’s okay Tommy,” he gasped, laying a comforting hand on Hanson’s leg.  “It’s okay.”

“Estúpido!  _Estúpido!”_ Tom cried out, brutally punching himself on the side of the head with his fists.

“No Tommy, stop!” Booker yelled, his pain temporarily forgotten.  Wrestling the distressed man to the ground, he wrapped his arms around him to further prevent him from hurting himself.  “Shh Tommy, shh.  It’s okay.  Dennis is okay.”

During their tussle, their towels dislodged and both men lay naked on the floor.  As they held each other tightly, they sobbed uncontrollably, both distraught at the pain they had caused to the other.  As the minutes passed, Dennis slowly disengaged himself and wiping the tears from Tom’s face, he smiled lovingly.  “No more tears.  Everything’s okay now Tommy.”

Tom’s wide eyes stared back.  “Den- _nis_ o-kay?” he asked quietly.

Booker nodded and ruffled Hanson’s hair.  “Yes Tommy, I’m okay.”

A small smile played over Tom’s lips and standing up, he began to dress.  Dennis sighed in relief and scrambling slowly to his feet, he pulled on his own clothes.  Tom’s violent display of self-harm had unnerved him and now more than ever, he was desperate to get back to America so Hanson could begin his journey to recovery.  



	9. On the Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Moving slowly across the floor on his hands and knees so as not to startle Tom, Booker stopped when he was about a foot from where Hanson sat huddled.  Sitting cross-legged, he spoke in a low, calm voice.  “I really am sorry Tommy.  It was my fault, I know you can’t help it.”_
> 
> _“Bastardo!” Tom spat, kicking out viciously.  His foot connected with Dennis’ groin and he doubled over in pain, a loud oomph escaping from his lips.  Excruciating pain flared in Booker’s body and a wave of nausea washed over him.  Tears filled his eyes and he panted heavily as he tried to regain his breath.  Unable to move, he groaned loudly, his hands protectively covering his crotch in case Tom decided on a second onslaught.  Instead, he felt a hand clumsily stroking his hair.  “Lo siento Den-nis!” Tom sobbed._
> 
> _Blinking back his tears, Dennis lifted his head a managed a watery smile.  “It’s okay Tommy,” he gasped, laying a comforting hand on Hanson’s leg.  “It’s okay.”_
> 
> _“Estúpido!  Estúpido!” Tom cried out, brutally punching himself on the side of the head with his fists._
> 
> _“No Tommy, stop!” Booker yelled, his pain temporarily forgotten.  Wrestling the distressed man to the ground, he wrapped his arms around him to further prevent him from hurting himself.  “Shh Tommy, shh.  It’s okay.  Dennis is okay.”_
> 
> _During their tussle, their towels dislodged and both men lay naked on the floor.  As they held each other tightly, they sobbed uncontrollably, both distraught at the pain they had caused to the other.  As the minutes passed, Dennis slowly disengaged himself and wiping the tears from Tom’s face, he smiled lovingly.  “No more tears.  Everything’s okay now Tommy.”_
> 
> _Tom’s wide eyes stared back.  “Den-nis o-kay?” he asked quietly._
> 
> _Booker nodded and ruffled Hanson’s hair.  “Yes Tommy, I’m okay.”_
> 
> _A small smile played over Tom’s lips and standing up, he began to dress.  Dennis sighed in relief and scrambling slowly to his feet, he pulled on his own clothes.  Tom’s violent display of self-harm had unnerved him and now more than ever, he was desperate to get back to America so Hanson could begin his journey to recovery._

**On the Run**  

Waking  early on the day they were to leave El Salvador, Dennis climbed out of bed, being careful not to wake Tom.  It had been a rough night, with Tom waking every few hours from the nightmares that now plagued him as soon as he fell asleep.  In the days since leaving the hospital, Booker had noticed that the bad dreams had become more frequent and far more intense.  In the beginning, Hanson had tossed and turned but had barely uttered a sound, even though the expression on his face reflected the terror of the images in his mind.  Now, he cried out in his sleep the same phrase repeatedly, “Detente!  No me hagas daño!  Por favor, no me hagas daño!”  _Stop!  Don’t hurt me!  Please, don’t hurt me!_   It broke Booker's heart to hear the panic in Tom’s voice and he would immediately pull Tom into his arms and hold him close as he murmured reassurances that no one would ever hurt him again.

Having showered and dressed, Dennis walked into the bedroom and saw Tom standing at the window.  He smiled to himself that Tom still found the busy streets below fascinating, even after being in Antiguo Cuscatlán for five days.  Walking across the room, he stood next to his friend and for a moment, he took in the sights and sounds below.  In truth, he was not sad to be leaving.  If Tom had not traveled to El Salvador, he would not be the broken man he was today.  Although Booker was wise enough to know that it was not the country’s or even its people’s fault that Hanson had endured such hardships, he could honestly say that he was glad that they were finally returning to the United States and he would never again have to set foot in the place where all of Tom’s suffering had occurred.

Laying a hand on the back of Tom’s head, Dennis gently ruffled his hair.  “Time for a shower Tommy, Ben will be here soon.”

Tom turned and gave Booker an engaging smile.  “Go-ing home?” he asked, his eyes lighting up in excitement.

Booker laughed.  “That’s right.  We’re going home.  Now get moving or I’ll leave you behind.”

Whilst Tom was in the bathroom, Dennis crushed a sedative and dissolved it in a bottle of water.  He was careful to use only one tablet, as he only wanted Tom to feel drowsy and relaxed rather than having him fall into a deep sleep and not be able to walk onto the plane.  When Hanson entered the bedroom, freshly showered and dressed, Booker handed him the bottle and motioned for him to drink it with the breakfast he had ordered up to their room.  When Tom took a sip, he immediately spat out the water and gave Dennis an angry glare.  “No quiero dormer!” he yelled, tipping the bottle of water out over the floor.  _I don’t want to sleep!_

“Shit,” Dennis muttered, unable to believe that Tom could taste the medication.  “Now what the fuck am I supposed to do?”  With only a few minutes before Ben was due to arrive and drive them to the Cuscatlán International Airport, he knew he had no choice but to sit Tom down and try to explain to him that he needed to behave on their journey back to America.

A loud knock at the door signaled Ben’s arrival.  When the tall American entered the room, he immediately noticed Tom’s sulky expression.  “Everything okay?” he asked Booker quietly.

“Everything’s fucking brilliant,” Dennis shot back crossly, raking his fingers through his already tousled hair.  “Tom won’t take a sedative so now I’ve got to sit on a plane with him for five hours worrying that at any moment he might pull his cock out and start masturbating.”

An amused smile curled Ben’s lip.  “It’s not fucking funny Ben!” Booker exclaimed angrily.  “How the hell am I supposed to cope with this?”

Ben laid a comforting hand on Dennis’ shoulder.  “The same way you’ve coped with everything up until now Denny, calmly and patiently.  You’ve got me here now, so between the two of us, I’m sure we can get the message across.”

Booker exhaled noisily.  “Yeah, you’re right.  I guess I’m just a little nervous about the whole trip.”

“It’s understandable,” Ben replied.  “Both you and Tom are entering unknown territory.  It won’t be until you get him back to the States that you’ll know the full extent of his mental illness.”

An overwhelming sadness washed over Booker.  Up until this point, he had firmly believed that once Tom was back in America, he would slowly recover from the trauma that the soldiers had inflicted upon him.  But now, after hearing Ben’s words, he realized that there was a very strong possibility that Tom would never fully recover.  Looking over at the window where Tom was once again gazing down at the streets below, Dennis knew that whatever the outcome, he would be there for Tom, in whatever way he needed him.

**

As the plane taxied down the runway, Dennis took Tom’s hand in his and gave him a reassuring smile.  “We’re on our way Tommy,” he murmured and he felt a surge of relief run through his body.  However, his elation was short lived.  As the airplane rose steeply into the sky, a gush of blood spurted from Tom’s nose and started to flow heavily from his nostrils.  Crying out in distress, Tom immediately gained comfort by fondling his crotch, much to the dismay of the woman sitting next to Booker.  Dennis attempted to deal with Hanson’s roaming hand and bloody nose but Tom became agitated and began throwing his head from side to side, causing droplets of blood to fly through the air, many of them landing on the woman’s cream colored linen pants.  

When the plane reached altitude and the seat belt sign flashed off, a flight attendant hurried over, her expression concerned.  “Sir, is everything okay?” she addressed Booker quietly so as not to cause a scene.

“I’m sorry,” Dennis muttered, the fingers of his right hand pinching the bridge of Tom’s nose in an effort to stem the flow of blood, whilst his left hand attempted to still Hanson’s fingers, which had found their way inside the waistband of his jeans and were tugging furiously at his growing erection.  “My friend can’t help what he’s doing, he has a psychiatric disorder.  Please don’t turn the plane around, I really need to get him home to the States.”

The attendant stared at Tom with unveiled pity.  Giving Booker a comforting smile, she turned her attention to the agitated woman sitting next to him.  “Ma’am, perhaps you would be more comfortable in another seat.”

The elderly woman sniffed loudly, her mouth set in a hard line.  “And what about my clothing?  That disgusting creature’s blood is all over me.”

Letting go of Tom’s hand, Booker reached into his pocket and pulled out several twenty-dollar bills.  “Here,” he replied angrily, shoving the notes into the woman’s wrinkled hand.  “Get them dry cleaned.  I’m _so_ sorry my sick friend has caused you so much inconvenience.”

Snorting with disgust, the woman rose to her feet.  “He should be locked away,” she retorted, her tone unsympathetic.  “He’s a disgrace.”

“Yeah?” Booker shot back.  “And you’re an uncaring bitch.”

The woman’s eyes widened in surprise.  “Well I never!” she started, but the rest of her indignant reply was cut short as the flight attendant quickly ushered her to a seat at the back of the plane.

Returning his attention to Tom, Booker observed with dismay that he was close to climaxing.  Hanson had his eyes closed and his fist moved frantically inside his jeans.  Standing up, Dennis opened the overhead compartment and quickly pulled out his leather jacket.  Sitting down, he placed the coat over Tom’s lap as Hanson started speaking, now blissfully unaware of the blood streaming from his nose.  “Aah, aah, aah… se siente tan bien!” he moaned, before his body shuddered as his orgasm hit.  A slow, tranquil smile spread across his face and opening his eyes, he gazed at Booker.  “Tommy está feliz ahora,” he murmured drowsily.  _Tommy is happy now._

Seeing the peaceful look on Hanson’s face, Dennis grinned back and suddenly, he realized that he no longer cared how others viewed Tom.  He knew the truth behind Hanson’s bizarre behavior and that was all that mattered.  When the attendant returned with a damp washcloth, Booker gently wiped at the blood covering Tom’s face.  “Fuck ‘em all,” he muttered in a low voice.  “ _I_ know what kind of man you are Tommy and I couldn’t be prouder.”

**

As the cab pulled up outside his apartment block, Dennis gently shook Tom awake.  After paying the driver, he helped a sleepy Hanson from the car and collected his bag from the trunk.  Tom’s eyes grew wide as he took in his surroundings.  Taking his arm, Booker walked Hanson into his building and pushed the up button of the elevator.  When the lift arrived, he steered Hanson inside and pushed the button for the fourth floor.  The door pinged open and they walked a short distance down the well-lit hallway before stopping outside apartment 412.  Turning the key in the lock, Booker pushed open the door and flicked the light switch.  “Here we are Tommy, we’re finally home.”

Walking into the spacious, open plan apartment, Tom gazed around him in wonder.  “Mi casa?” he asked, his eyes flashing with excitement.  _My home?_

Booker felt a twinge of sadness, Tom thought that the apartment was now his home.  Dennis did not have the heart or the energy to explain to Tom at that moment that in all likelihood he would spend time in a secure psychiatric facility.  Ignoring Tom’s question, he smiled and ruffled Tom’s hair.  “C’mon, I’ll show you around and then I’ll order a pizza.”

“Mmm, pizza,” Tom murmured, rubbing his stomach theatrically.  “Me gusta la pizza.”  

“Some things never change,” Dennis laughed, remembering Tom’s appetite for pizza when they worked together at The Chapel.  

Taking Hanson by the hand, he showed him the bathroom and the bedroom.  “Mi cama?” Tom asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and bouncing up and down.

Booker sat down next to Tom.  “Um, our bed.  There’s only one bedroom so we’ll still have to share.  Is that okay?”

Tom stared back blankly for a moment and then he rubbed his hand over the mattress.  “Tom _y_ Den- _nis?”_ he asked.

Smiling, Dennis nodded his head.  “That’s right, you and me.”

“Está bien.  Tommy no quiere dormer solo,” Tom replied solemnly.  _That’s good.  Tommy doesn’t want to sleep alone._

Tears of sadness filled Dennis’ eyes.  Tom still had so many adversities ahead of him and it was only now, in the comfort of his home, that Booker was beginning to realize it.  He instantly made the decision to take his time finding Tom a treatment facility.  For the next few days, he wanted to concentrate on helping Tom settle into life in America.  The first step was to get advice from his doctor and then he would begin the process of explaining to Tom that it was in is best interest to leave the comfort of his care and receive help from trained professionals.

“One day at a time Tommy,” he whispered as he stroked Tom’s face.  “We’ll take one day at a time.”  



	10. Don't Leave Me Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Walking into the spacious, open plan apartment, Tom gazed around him in wonder.  “Mi casa?” he asked, his eyes flashing with excitement.  My home?_
> 
> _Booker felt a twinge of sadness, Tom thought that the apartment was now his home.  Dennis did not have the heart or the energy to explain to Tom at that moment that in all likelihood he would spend time in a secure psychiatric facility.  Ignoring Tom’s question, he smiled and ruffled Tom’s hair.  “C’mon, I’ll show you around and then I’ll order a pizza.”_
> 
> _“Mmm, pizza,” Tom murmured, rubbing his stomach theatrically.  “Me gusta la pizza.”_
> 
> _“Some things never change,” Dennis laughed, remembering Tom’s appetite for pizza when they worked together at The Chapel._
> 
> _Taking Hanson by the hand, he showed him the bathroom and the bedroom.  “Mi cama?” Tom asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and bouncing up and down._
> 
> _Booker sat down next to Tom.  “Um, our bed.  There’s only one bedroom so we’ll still have to share.  Is that okay?”_
> 
> _Tom stared back blankly for a moment and then he rubbed his hand over the mattress.  “Tom and Den-nis?” he asked._
> 
> _Smiling, Dennis nodded his head.  “That’s right, you and me.”_
> 
> _“Está bien.  Tom no quiere dormer solo,” Tom replied solemnly.  That’s good.  Tom doesn’t want to sleep alone._
> 
> _Tears of sadness filled Dennis’ eyes.  Tom still had so many adversities ahead of him and it was only now, in the comfort of his home, that Booker was beginning to realize it.  He instantly made the decision to take his time finding Tom a treatment facility.  For the next few days, he wanted to concentrate on helping Tom settle into life in America.  The first step was to get advice from his doctor and then he would begin the process of explaining to Tom that it was in is best interest to leave the comfort of his care and receive help from trained professionals._
> 
> _“One day at a time Tommy,” he whispered as he stroked Tom’s face.  “We’ll take one day at a time.”_

**Don't Leave Me Now**  

As Tom happily explored the apartment, Dennis ordered the pizza.  In the back of his mind was the thought that he should phone Penhall to tell him that they had arrived home safely but he knew he could not face it at that moment.  He would have to come clean about the extent of Tom’s disability but it was not a conversation that he was looking forward to having.  He could only hope that Doug would understand his reasons for lying about Hanson’s condition.

After placing an order for a large pepperoni pizza, Dennis put down the phone and watched Tom as he tried to figure out how to turn on the television.  Smiling sadly, he walked over and stood between Tom and the TV.  “I guess some things you never forget,” he stated quietly, marveling at the fact that Hanson remembered television but not the English language.  When Tom tried to push him away, Booker stood firm.  “Nuh uh,” he said, looking at the blood stains on Tom’s t-shirt.  “First things first.  You need a shower and some clean clothes.

“Quiero!” Tom demanded in a loud voice as he forcefully shoved Dennis out of his way.

Tiredness made Dennis snap.  “And I said NO!” he shouted crossly.

Tom’s eyes filled with fear and he immediately dropped to the ground and covered his head with his arms.  Sighing in frustration, Booker knelt down beside the trembling figure.  “I’m sorry Tommy, of course you can watch TV.  You can get cleaned up later.”

Showing no signs that he had heard Dennis’ apology, Tom continued to cower on the floor.  Standing up, Dennis switched on the television and walked into the kitchen.  When he returned several moments later carrying a bottle of Coca Cola and two glasses, he found Tom curled up on the couch, happily watching a hockey game.  After pouring the drinks, Booker sat down in the armchair and observed Hanson enjoying the game.  It was such a small thing but it brought tears to his eyes and he quickly blinked them away.  Now that they were home, he felt a huge black cloud of depression enveloping him.  Whilst they were in El Salvador, it had been easier to cope with Tom’s childlike mental state but looking at him now, staring at the TV in rapturous delight, made Dennis see Tom’s disability through new eyes.  He began to wonder if the beatings and torture Tom had endured at the hands of his captors had left him with some kind of brain injury.  A solitary tear slid down his cheek and he brushed it away with his thumb.  There was no point in surmising, he would have to wait to see what the doctors told him after they had examined Tom.

The intercom buzzed and Tom spun around, puzzled at where the sound had come from.  Booker managed a small laugh.  “It’s okay Tom, it’s the pizza delivery guy.”

“Pizza?” Tom repeated, his eyes shining brightly.  “Tengo hambre.”  _I’m hungry._

Standing up, Booker walked over to the door and buzzed in the deliveryman.  “In English Tom, remember?”

Hanson thought about it for a moment before replying hesitantly, “Tom hung-gry?”

“Excellent!” Booker congratulated, his good mood slowly returning when he saw the pride on Tom’s face.  A knock on the door signaled the arrival of the pizza.  After paying the teenager, Dennis closed the door and set the pizza box on the coffee table.  Tom immediately tried to grab a slice but Booker stopped him, deciding that now was as good a time as any to try to re-teach Hanson some manners.  “Wait,” he instructed, holding his hand up in the “stop” position.  

Tom licked his lips in anticipation but obediently waited until Dennis returned with two plates and two paper napkins.  Handing one of each to Tom, he paused to see if Hanson recognized them.  After faltering for a moment, Tom placed the napkin on his lap and put one slice of pizza onto his plate.  Looking up, he searched Booker’s face for validation.  Seeing Dennis smile, Tom grinned back.  “Comer?” he asked.  _Eat?_

Booker nodded.  “Yes Tommy, you can start.  But _slowly_ , understand?  Don’t cram it all into your mouth.”

Dennis could see that Tom was trying desperately to process the English words.  “Comer lentamente,” Hanson muttered, his expression serious as he nibbled at his piece of pizza.  _Eat slowly._

This time Booker burst out laughing.  He immediately stopped when he saw Tom’s hurt expression.  Reaching over, he ruffled Tom’s hair good-naturedly.  “Sorry Tommy, that was rude.  You are doing really well and I’m so proud of you.”

Tom’s eyes shone with delight.  “Den- _nis_ hap-py? he asked in an excited tone.

Booker stared back in shock.  He could not remember explaining the word _happy_ to Tom, which meant Hanson was slowly starting to remember English words on his own.  “Oh God Tom,” he whispered, as he pulled his friend into a hug.  “You’re starting to remember.”

Unaware of what all the fuss was about, Tom gently pulled free of Dennis’ embrace and continued to eat his pizza.  Dennis gazed at him with love.  For the first time since finding him, Booker felt a glimmer of hope as to what the future would hold for Tom.

**

For the next few days, Booker kept Tom at home and slowly reintroduced him to everyday life in America.  He taught him how to shave and to eat with a knife and fork.  Once shown, it was as though a switch turned on in Hanson’s brain and he quickly adapted.  The only habit Dennis was unable to change was Tom’s explicit sexual promiscuity.  Hanson still attempted to engage Booker in sexual stimulation, usually when Dennis was waking up and experiencing an early morning erection.  Booker had to muster all of his will power to resist Hanson’s advances and it left him feeling bitter and frustrated.  He had carried a torch for Tom for so long and to sleep side by side with a man he was in love with and to wake up with Tom’s long fingers teasing his cock to life and not be able to act upon it, was agony.  When he rejected Tom’s advances, Hanson would pleasure himself and it was just as difficult for Dennis to lie next to Tom whilst he masturbated.  He knew he should get up and leave the room, but there was a small part of his brain that said it was okay for him to watch, that Tom _wanted_ him to watch.  He knew he was kidding himself and that if Hanson was of sound mind he would not be doing the things he did, but still he could not draw his eyes away.  When Tom reached his orgasm, shooting semen over his fingers and stomach, Dennis felt sick with shame.  He began to wonder if he was procrastinating about getting Tom help so he could continue to watch him, day after day, slowly and vocally, bringing himself to climax.  As the days dragged on, Booker’s guilt deepened and he knew he needed to step up and do what was best for Tom.

Eventually, divine providence forced Dennis to act.  The phone rang early one morning when Booker was making breakfast.  Tom was still asleep, exhausted from the terrifying nightmares that had woken him throughout the night.  Snatching up the receiver, Dennis was surprised to hear the voice of his general practitioner, Doctor Ewan Walker.  “Dennis, it’s Doctor Walker.  I just received some lab results for a Thomas James Hanson with your name as the contact number.”

“Jesus,” Booker murmured.  “Sorry, but I’d completely forgotten about it.  Um, is there any chance I can get an appointment and bring Tom to see you?”

“Sure Dennis,” Doctor Walker replied.  “I can see you this morning at eleven-thirty but the results are all negative although one test is still pending but—”

“There’s more to it than that,” Booker interrupted quietly.  “Tom’s in a bad way mentally but I’ll explain everything when I see you.”

Hanging up the phone, Booker opened up the bedroom door.  Tom lay naked on the bed, his boxers around his ankles.  He was grunting quietly as his fingers lightly tugged at his growing erection.  Booker stood transfixed, staring at the erotic sight and a soft moan escaped his lips.  Tom’s eyes opened and he gazed at Dennis as a tranquil smile played across his lips.  “Den- _nis_ quiere jugar con Tom?”  _Dennis want to play with Tom?_

A lump formed in Dennis’ throat.  “Oh Jesus,” he groaned.  “Tommy stop, please stop.”

A soft pout formed on Tom’s lips and his hand worked faster over his cock.  “No quiero parar,” he sulked.  “Tommy le gusta.”  _I don’t want to stop.  Tommy likes._

Turning on his heel, Booker walked out of the room and closed the door.  He entered the bathroom and locked the door, before leaning heavily against it.  Unbuttoning his jeans, he allowed them to fall to his ankles.  Panting heavily, he reached into his boxers and pulled out his semi erect cock.  With a groan, he began to tug, slowly bringing his cock to life.  “Oh Tommy,” he moaned, his fist working faster as his pleasure grew.  “Oh fuck… Aaah!  Jesus… Oh Jesus!”

Booker’s orgasm hit hard and with a cry, he ejaculated forcefully over his fingers.  A sob caught in his throat and he threw his arm over his face.  As his breath hitched in his throat, he heard a soft knock at the door.  “Den- _nis_ o-kay?” Tom asked softly.

“Just a minute Tom,” Dennis replied, his voice sounding wobbly to his own ears.  “I’ll be out in a sec.”

Tucking himself away, he pulled up his jeans.  Walking over to the hand basin, he washed his hands and splashed water onto his face.  Gazing at his reflection in the mirror, he felt disgusted at himself and he knew that the time had come to send Tom away.

**

Sitting in Ewan Walker’s office, Dennis listened to the doctor speak whilst Tom sat happily flicking through a magazine.  Before their appointment, Booker had taken Hanson shopping.  Tom had gained immense pleasure from picking out new clothes and toiletries, but for Booker, the occasion was not a happy one because in essence, he was getting Tom organized for life in a psychiatric facility.

Doctor Walker cleared his throat.  “From what you have described, Tom is suffering from a condition known as satyriasis, which in layman’s terms is hyper-sexuality in a man.  The female equivalent is the more commonly known nymphomania.  It can be associated as part of the Rape Trauma Syndrome, where a victim feels the need to take control over their sexual relations after being raped.  As for Tom’s other symptoms; speaking only Spanish for example, it is my opinion that he needs extensive psychiatric treatment in a secure facility.”

Booker nodded.  “That’s what I thought but I can’t afford to put him in a private facility and Tom’s mother didn’t leave much of an inheritance.  How the hell am I supposed to do this?”

“He can be committed to a State run facility,” Walker replied.  “But first things first.  We need to have Tom assessed by a psychiatrist.  If he is deemed mentally ill and unable to care for himself, an _Involuntary Commitment Order_ will be issued, which a magistrate must sign.  Once the form is signed, it will be sent to the local police department and they will send an officer to transport Tom to a hospital emergency room for a medical examination. This examination is known as the _first mental health exam_ and the physician’s psychiatric diagnosis will then be sent with Tom to the psychiatric facility.  Once Tom is admitted, the psychiatrist has twenty-four hours to conduct a mental status exam on him to determine if he meets the criteria to continue the commitment. This examination is what is referred to as the _second exam_ and the doctor’s findings will be faxed to the magistrate.  Approximately ten days after his admission, Tom will be brought before a judge for a hearing.  During this hearing, the judge will listen to testimony and review all documentation presented by the psychiatrist and they will make a decision whether to extend Tom’s treatment.  A follow up date for a court review will be made to ensure that the Tom is not detained any longer than need be.”

“Jesus,” Booker whispered as he ran his fingers nervously over his lips.

Doctor Walker smiled.  “It sounds daunting but it is the best course of action for Tom in the long run.  Let me make a few calls and get the ball rolling.”

Leaning back in his chair, Dennis gazed at his friend and the innocence of Tom’s expression tore at his heart.  Hanson had no idea what was about to happen to him and it pained Booker that he was the one who had to make the heart wrenching decision to have Tom committed.

**

The psychiatric doctor was able to schedule an appointment for Tom that afternoon.  Hanson's insecurities manifested as soon as Booker left the room and he found instant sexual gratification by fondling himself through his denims, all under the watchful eye of Doctor Dawn Webber.   Booker waited in the reception area, nervously pacing the floor as the minutes ticked by.  An hour later, the door opened and Tom emerged wearing a sulky expression.  “Tom no le gusta,” he informed Dennis.  “Quiero ir a casa.”  _Tom doesn’t like.  I want to go home._

Booker felt tears welling in his eyes and he quickly blinked them away.  “In a minute Tommy, I need to speak to the doctor first.”

“No!  No!  No!” Tom yelled.  “Quiero ir a casa!  Quiero ir a _casa!_ ”

“Shh, Tom,” Dennis soothed, placing an arm around Tom’s shaking shoulders.  “We’ll go home as soon as I’ve spoken to the doctor.”

Doctor Webber stood silently observing Tom’s outburst.  When Hanson eventually settled down, she spoke quickly and officiously.  “I have issued an Involuntary Commitment Order and it will be sent immediately to the courthouse.  Expect a visit from the police department within twenty-four hours.”

The speed at which things were now moving frightened Booker.  “Can’t you wait a day or two?  I need time to explain to Tom what—”

“ _Mister_ Booker,” Webber interrupted.  “The sooner Tom is receiving treatment, the better.  This is now out of your hands and if I were you, I would enjoy the time you have together as it is my opinion that he will be in treatment for a very long time.”  And without another word, she walked into her office and closed the door.

“C’mon,” Dennis said quietly to Tom.  “Let’s get you home.”

Tom grinned happily, blissfully unaware that it would be the last few hours he would spend with Booker for a very long time.

**

At Tom’s request, Booker ordered pizza for the second night in a row.  As Tom ate, transfixed by the Disney movie on the television, Booker sat quietly, the piece of pizza on his plate turning cold.  He ran various scenarios through his mind in an attempt to find the least stressful way of telling Tom that he would soon be going to live somewhere else.  But try as he might, he could not find the right words.  With a sigh, he stood up and began to clear away the remains of their meal when the intercom buzzed.  Sweat broke out on Booker’s forehead and walking over to the door, he pushed the answer button.  “Hello?”

“Mr. Dennis Booker?” a male voice sounded through the speaker.  “This is Officer Brooks from the Los Angeles Police Department.  I’m here with Officer Edwards to enforce an Involuntary Commitment Order.”

“Oh God!” Booker cried.  “Not now!  I haven’t prepared him.  Please, just give me more time!”

“I’m sorry sir, there is no more time, the order has been issued,” Officer Brooks replied.

In a trance, Booker buzzed the officers into the building and opened the apartment door.  Walking over to the television, he switched it off, ignoring Tom’s whine of protest.  Sitting down, he pulled Tom into a tight embrace.  “I’m sorry Tommy, I’m _so_ fucking sorry.  But hopefully one day you’ll understand that what I’m doing is for your own good.”

A soft knock signaled the officers’ arrival.  Standing up, tears poured down Booker’s cheeks as he pulled Tom to his feet.  “Tommy,” he choked.  “I want you to go with these nice men and I’ll see you soon, okay?”

As the two officers approached, panic filled Tom’s eyes.  Within seconds, they had him in their grasp, one on each side grabbing his arms in a secure hold.

“NO!” Tom screamed hysterically as the police officers forcefully dragged him backwards towards the door.  “DEN- _NIS!_   _Por favor!_   Ayúdame!  No dejes que me _lleven!  No dejes que me lleven!”  DENNIS!  Please!  Help me!  Don’t let them take me!  Don’t let them take me!_

A dark stain appeared on the front of Tom’s jeans as lost control of his bladder.  Tears streamed down his face and his body thrashed wildly in a desperate attempt to break free.  “DEN- _NIS!_   DEN- _NIS!_ No me abandones!  No me abandones!”  _DENNIS!  DENNIS!  Don’t leave me!  Don’t leave me!_

“Oh God!” Booker cried.  “I’m sorry Tommy!  I’m sorry!”  Rushing forward, he attempted the pull Hanson away from the officers but Brooks pushed him roughly away.

“Stand back sir,” the officer commanded.  “There’s nothing more you can do.”

As the officers pulled Tom from the apartment, Booker could hear his tortured shrieks as they dragged him down the long hallway.  Collapsing onto the floor, Dennis sobbed uncontrollably, the sound of Tom’s screams echoing in his ears.  



	11. The Hero's Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: A soft knock signaled the officers’ arrival.  Standing up, tears poured down Booker’s cheeks as he pulled Tom to his feet.  “Tommy,” he choked.  “I want you to go with these nice men and I’ll see you soon, okay?”_
> 
> _As the two officers approached, panic filled Tom’s eyes.  Within seconds, they had him in their grasp, one on each side grabbing his arms in a secure hold._
> 
> _“NO!” Tom screamed hysterically as the police officers forcefully dragged him backwards towards the door.  “DEN-NIS!  Por favor!  Ayúdame!  No dejes que me lleven!  No dejes que me lleven!”  DENNIS!  Please!  Help me!  Don’t let them take me!  Don’t let them take me!_
> 
> _A dark stain appeared on the front of Tom’s jeans as lost control of his bladder.  Tears streamed down his face and his body thrashed wildly in a desperate attempt to break free.  “DEN-NIS!  DEN-NIS!  No me abandones!  No me abandones!”  DENNIS!  DENNIS!  Don’t leave me!  Don’t leave me!_
> 
> _“Oh God!” Booker cried.  “I’m sorry Tommy!  I’m sorry!”  Rushing forward, he attempted the pull Hanson away from the officers but Brooks pushed him roughly away._
> 
> _“Stand back sir,” the officer commanded.  “There’s nothing more you can do.”_
> 
> _As the officers pulled Tom from the apartment, Booker could hear his tortured shrieks as they dragged him down the long hallway.  Collapsing onto the floor, Dennis sobbed uncontrollably, the sound of Tom’s screams echoing in his ears._

**The Hero's Return**

_Six  months later_

A loud clap of thunder woke Dennis from a fitful night’s sleep.  Rolling over, he gazed at the red luminous numbers on his digital clock and moaned loudly.  It was 4am, too early to get up and he doubted he would be able to fall back asleep.  As was the case whenever he could not sleep, his thoughts turned to Tom.  It had been six months since the fateful day that Hanson had been dragged kicking and screaming from the apartment.  In the ensuing weeks, there had been several court hearings to determine whether Tom’s commitment order would stand.  Hanson had sat passively, a bewildered expression on his beautiful face as he gazed around the courtroom.  When his eyes found Dennis, he had jumped to his feet and cried hysterically, begging Booker to take him home, until eventually he was ushered from the room.  The guilt Dennis felt was unbearable and he had sobbed uncontrollably as the judge signed the order for a further two months.  When the second hearing took place, Tom was noticeably absent.  Booker sat tensely waiting to hear the psychiatrist’s report.  He had clenched his fists when he heard that that although Tom now spoke fluent English, he was prone to violent, self-destructive outbursts, which had resulted in the need for sedation and several sessions of electroconvulsive therapy.  Bile had risen in Booker’s throat and he had staggered from the courtroom, barely making it to the men’s room before he vomited up his lunch.  He had leaned against the hand basin for support, as the room swam in front of him and Tom’s voice echoed in his mind.  _DEN-NIS!  DEN-NIS!  No me abandones!  No me abandones!_

When he had finally found the strength to return to the court, the hearing was over and the judge had signed the commitment order for a further three months.

Realizing that sleep was elusive, Booker groaned and clambered from his warm bed.  Walking into the bathroom, he relieved his bladder and turned on the shower.  Stepping into the cubicle, he ducked his head and allowed the warm water to relax him.  He missed Tom every day but now that Hanson was a ward of the state, he could not intervene in his treatment.  Almost every day, Dennis regretted his decision to send Tom away.  His guilt was insurmountable and he felt like he _had_ abandoned Tom.  But on the rare, good days, commonsense prevailed and he knew he had made the right decision in getting Hanson help with his disorder.

Turning off the faucets, Dennis stepped out of the shower and quickly dried off.  Dressing in a black t-shirt, jeans and boots, he grabbed his leather jacket off the back of the chair and exited his apartment.  Although only 5am he drove to his office, intent on putting all thoughts of Tom out of his mind, at least for the next few hours.

**

Rolling his shoulders to relieve the tension, Booker decided to call it a night.  He had been on a stakeout for eight hours and he was tired and disillusioned.  He had been commissioned by an insurance company to watch a man who claimed he had hurt his back in a motor vehicle accident, but so far, all Booker had witnessed was the man attending medical appointments.  Starting the engine of his black Cadillac, he pulled out from the curb and drove the short distance to his office.  Sitting down at his desk, he rolled a sheet of paper into the typewriter as he absently hit the play button on the answering machine.  Just as he began to type up his report, a male voice spoke from the recording.  _“Mr. Booker, this is Doctor Damon Williams from the Glenfield Psychiatric Facility.  Please call me on 555-8692 during office hours so we can discuss Thomas Hanson’s future.”_

Dennis sat open-mouthed, staring at the typewriter.  He replayed the message for a second and third time before scribbling down the doctor’s name and number with a shaky hand.  It was the first time since Tom’s incarceration that he had heard from the psychiatric hospital.  For several minutes, he stared at the piece of paper before finally picking up the phone and dialing the number.

The phone rang eight times before a harsh male voice answered.  “Williams!”

Dennis cleared his throat nervously.  “Erm, Doctor Williams, this is Dennis Booker.  You left a message asking me to—”

“Yes, yes,” Williams interrupted rudely.  “I’d like to arrange a time for you to come in so we can discuss Thomas’ future.”

“F-future?” Dennis stuttered, tears filling his eyes.  “Do you mean he’s being released?”

“All in good time Mr. Booker, all in good time.  Now, when can we schedule a meeting?” the doctor replied, his tone impatient.

Booker did not even bother to consult his diary.  He took the first appointment that Doctor Williams had available, which was the following Tuesday.  Hanging up the phone, he stretched back in his chair and smiled broadly.  He was finally one-step closer to bringing Tom home.

**

Driving through the secure gates of the Glenfield Psychiatric Facility, Booker parked his car and walked the short distance to the administration building.  After showing his identification, he received a visitor’s pass and the friendly receptionist told him to take a seat and someone would escort him to Doctor Williams’ office.  Sitting down, Booker jiggled his legs nervously.  He had no idea what to expect from the visit and if he would even be able to see Tom.  He was on an emotional roller coaster, alternating between feelings of excitement and apprehension.  Because he was not family, the court had not allowed him any contact with Tom, even though he had tried on numerous occasions to obtain information regarding his wellbeing.  The day after the officers took Hanson, Dennis had placed the dreaded phone call to Penhall.  He was desperate to have someone to talk to but after explaining the nightmare Tom had lived for two years and his consequent mental breakdown, Doug had become monosyllabic, refusing to discuss Hanson’s illness further.  In a rage, Booker had slammed down the phone and he had not heard from Penhall again.  It pained Dennis to think that Tom’s best friend had deserted him during the most difficult time of his life but he was willing to give Doug the benefit of the doubt and he hoped that once they released Tom from Glenfield, he and Penhall could begin to repair their friendship.

So lost in his thoughts, Booker did not hear his name called.  He jumped in surprise when a large, meaty hand touched his shoulder.  Looking up, he saw a tall, well-built man smiling down at him.  “Sorry to startle you sir, but Doctor Williams will see you now.”

Returning a nervous smile, Dennis wiped his palms on his jeans before standing up and following the man through a door that automatically locked behind them.  Walking down the brightly lit corridor, Booker felt sweat beading on his forehead.  The man eventually stopped outside a closed door half way down the hallway.  Knocking twice, he opened the door and stood back so Dennis could enter.  The door closed behind Booker and he stood facing a small, barrel shaped man sitting behind a large desk.  Looking up from his paperwork, Doctor Williams motioned for Dennis to sit down.  Booker was grateful for the invitation as his legs felt weak and wobbly.  Sitting down, he waited patiently for the doctor to speak.  It took several minutes before Damon Williams lifted his head and made eye contact.  Speaking brusquely, he did not bother with pleasantries.  “Thomas’ Commitment Order is due to expire in ten days time.  It is my opinion that further treatment at Glenfield would not be beneficial and therefore I am going to recommend to the court that he be released.”

Booker’s nails dug painfully into the palms of his hands and he clenched his fists into tight balls.  “Um, what exactly does that mean?” he asked in a shaky voice.  “Has the treatment worked or is he—”

“The treatment has been most beneficial, up to a point,” the doctor interjected.  “His language skills have returned and his satyriasis is controlled through antidepressants.  Unfortunately, since he has regained his cognitive thoughts, Thomas has acquired a tendency for violent outbursts.  This is a common syndrome when a person’s memories are no longer repressed and they become fully aware of the horrors they have endured.   The antidepressants help to keep him calm but he is still prone to fits of anger.  However, I do not deem him a danger to himself or to others and therefore, there is no reason to keep him at Glenfield.”

A jumble of thoughts ran through Dennis’ mind and he took several deep breaths to calm himself.  “So what happens now?” 

The doctor gave Booker a hard stare.  “As Thomas has no family, I would recommend that he go into a supervised group home, at least until he has assimilated back into society.  Of course, if someone was willing to offer him a place to live, I believe that would be a far better—”

“I’ll do it,” Dennis replied quietly.

Williams gave a tight smile.  “It won’t be easy Mr. Booker.  Thomas is not the same man he was before his ordeal, nor is he the same man you knew six months ago.  Are you prepared to give him the support he needs even if it means putting your own life on hold?”

It was Dennis’ turn to smile.  “I made a promise to Tom that I would always protect him.  Now is my chance to keep that promise.”

Booker’s words had no emotional affect on the doctor.  “Very good.  The hearing is scheduled for the seventh of April at 11am.”

Clearing his throat, Dennis rubbed his lip nervously.  “Can I see him?” he asked softly.

Doctor Williams raised his eyebrow in surprise.  “I see no harm,” he eventually replied.  “I suppose it would be best for you and Thomas to become reacquainted with each other before his release.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Booker responded with a grin, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice.  It had been a long, emotional six months but he was now only moments from being reunited with his beloved Tom.

**

An orderly took Dennis into an empty recreation room and told him to wait.  He paced slowly around the room, nervously chewing on his lower lip.  He had fantasized about this moment for six months and now that it was finally happening, he had no idea what he should say to Tom.  A tight knot of apprehension twisted in his stomach and he suddenly felt like vomiting.  Closing his eyes, he silently counted to ten whilst taking deep, calming breaths.  A sense of peace washed over him and opening his eyes, he walked over to the large, barred window and stared out at the grounds below.  Memories of Tom standing by the window in El Salvador flooded his mind and his vision blurred as tears filled his eyes.  He quickly brushed them away and focused on the gardens below.  The beautifully manicured lawns seemed out of place against the dark shadow of the imposing gray building that housed so many sad, lost souls.  A lone gardener dressed in overalls, pushed a wheelbarrow of plants down a winding path towards a newly dug garden bed.  Booker wondered if the man tended the garden alone and he marveled at the level of work involved in keeping it so immaculate.

The sound of footsteps pulled Dennis from his thoughts and he slowly turned around just as Tom entered the room accompanied by Doctor Williams.  Booker’s eyes instantly filled with tears but Tom’s expression remained impassive.  Dennis took in Hanson’s appearance.  His hair was longer, his trademark bangs almost obscuring his large brown eyes.  He was pleased to see that Tom had gained some weight, but he was still thinner than Booker remembered him when they worked together in the Jump Street program.  His initial reaction was that Hanson looked tired, the black smudges under Tom’s eyes giving evidence to many nights of interrupted sleep.

Stepping forward, Booker closed the gap between them.  “God Tom,” he murmured, his voice wavering with emotion.  “It’s so good to see you.”

Hanson remained silent until Doctor Williams excused himself and left the room.  Giving Dennis the once over, Tom spoke in a cold, hard voice.  “So, the hero returns.” 

Taken aback by Tom’s words, Booker felt his nervousness return.  “H-how’ve you b-been?” he stuttered, feeling foolish at his lack of control.

A cruel smile slowly played across Tom’s lips.  “Come on Dennis, man up.  You weren’t the one held in a jungle and raped for two years.  At least pretend to have some balls.”

Booker stared back in shock, hurt by the spitefulness of Tom’s words.  Unfazed by Dennis’ wounded expression, Tom walked over to the window and stared silently at the gardener who was now planting the seedlings into the freshly hoed garden bed.  As the minutes passed, Booker decided to try again to reach out to Tom.  “Doctor Williams says you will be released in ten days.  I’ve told him that I’m happy for you to live with me until you get back on your feet.”

Hanson turned slowly around and stared at Dennis with unconcealed contempt.  “I bet you were just _dying_ to play the role of the knight in shining armor, weren’t you Dennis.  You must have been dreaming of the day you could ride in on your white horse and rescue poor little Tommy.  How does it feel, huh?  Is your chest swelling with pride?  Can you hear trumpets sounding in the distance, heralding your gallant actions?”  When Dennis did not reply, Tom gave him a derisive look.  “I guess you were expecting a hero’s welcome.  Sorry to disappoint you but the way I see it, you ruined my life.  Thanks for nothing.”  

Before Dennis could speak, Tom turned away and exited the room, slamming the door closed behind him.  



	12. The Post War Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Taken aback by Tom’s words, Booker felt his nervousness return.  “H-how’ve you b-been?” he stuttered, feeling foolish at his lack of control._
> 
> _A cruel smile slowly played across Tom’s lips.  “Come on Dennis, man up.  You weren’t the one held in a jungle and raped for two years.  At least pretend to have some balls.”_
> 
> _Booker stared back in shock, hurt by the spitefulness of Tom’s words.  Unfazed by Dennis’ wounded expression, Tom walked over to the window and stared silently at the gardener who was now planting the seedlings into the freshly hoed garden bed.  As the minutes passed, Booker decided to try again to reach out to Tom.  “Doctor Williams says you will be released in ten days.  I’ve told him that I’m happy for you to live with me until you get back on your feet.”_
> 
> _Hanson turned slowly around and stared at Dennis with unconcealed contempt.  “I bet you were just dying to play the role of the knight in shining armor, weren’t you Dennis.  You must have been dreaming of the day you could ride in on your white horse and rescue poor little Tommy.  How does it feel, huh?  Is your chest swelling with pride?  Can you hear trumpets sounding in the distance, heralding your gallant actions?”  When Dennis did not reply, Tom gave him a derisive look.  “I guess you were expecting a hero’s welcome.  Sorry to disappoint you but the way I see it, you ruined my life.  Thanks for nothing.”_
> 
> _Before Dennis could speak, Tom turned away and exited the room, slamming the door closed behind him._

**The Post War Dream**  

Lying on his bed in the group house that was now his home, Tom stared silently at the peeling paintwork on the ceiling of his small bedroom.  It had been two weeks since his release from Glenfield and he could feel the black dog of depression once again slowly pulling him into a state of hopelessness.  Since leaving the facility, he had made the decision to stop taking his antidepressants and sleeping tablets, no longer wanting to be under the effects of synthetic drugs.  He did not consult a doctor, preferring to take control of his own destiny rather than have others continue to manage his life.  However, the side effects of coming off the medication cold turkey had been extreme.  He now suffered from nausea, dizziness, insomnia and violent nightmares that had him waking throughout the night covered in sweat.  As the symptoms persisted, his depression deepened and he once again found solace through sex.  

Having read Tom’s case file, the group home director was well aware of Hanson’s history and he immediately took advantage of Tom’s fragile state of mind by visiting him during the night and propositioning him with sex.  In a desperate attempt to feel loved, Tom readily accepted but the sex was anything but loving.  Throughout his life, Grant Powell had managed to hide a cruel and sadistic personality and he took great delight in treating Tom in a manner similar to how the Salvadoran soldiers had treated him.  It took only days to assert his dominance over Tom by making him wear a choker chain around his neck with a leather leash attached.  Whilst he violently fucked Tom from behind, he would pull the chain until Hanson passed out and he gained his release.  As the abuse continued night after night, Tom’s mental state suffered until he was as much a captive in Los Angeles as he had been in the jungles of El Salvador.

Heavy footsteps sounded in the hallway and Tom’s eyes widened when he heard his bedroom door opening.  Without waiting to be told, he stood up and slowly began to undress.  Powell stepped forward and placed the chain around Hanson’s bruised neck.  Pulling it tight, he traced his finger along Tom’s jaw line in a pseudo-loving gesture.  “Are you horny tonight Tommy?” he asked, dropping his hand so he could massage Tom’s cock through the thin cotton of his boxers.  When Hanson did not reply, Powell laughed loudly.  “Of course you are.  You’re always horny.”

Climbing onto the bed, Tom positioned himself on his hands and knees.  Kneeling behind him, Powell pulled down Tom’s boxers and quickly lubricated his fingers.  Without warning, he roughly inserted his index finger, causing Tom to gasp with pain as the digit pushed past the rings of muscle.  As he continuously withdrew and reinserted his finger, Powell worked his fist over his own growing erection, slowly bringing his cock to life.  When he was hard, he carefully rolled on a condom and positioned himself against Tom’s opening.  With a loud grunt, he pushed himself inside, pausing for a moment to enjoy the feeling of being buried deep inside Tom’s tight ass.  Picking up the leash, he wound it tightly around his hand and pulled until the chain was biting into the flesh of Tom’s throat.  “Ready loverboy?” he asked cruelly.

Tom nodded, the cold links of the chain cutting deeper into his neck.  As Powell thrust into his body, Tom lifted one hand off the bed and began to masturbate.  He could feel the chain tightening around his throat and his cock hardened.  His mind went back to El Salvador and he started to moan.  “Más rápido,” he panted.  _Faster_.  “Dios, se siente tan bien!”  _Oh God, it feels so good!_

Excitement welled within Powell and he pumped his cock harder into Tom’s body.  “God I love it when you speak Spanish,” he groaned, his fingernails digging painfully into Tom’s hip.  “But I love it more when you’re quiet.”  Tightening his grasp on the leash, he pulled the choker chain around Hanson’s neck.  

Tom’s eyes fluttered and he started to gasp.  As asphyxiation slowly deprived his brain of oxygen, Tom’s orgasm hit hard and he ejaculated violently over the bed sheet beneath him.  A moment before he lost consciousness, Hanson heard Powell’s cry of pleasure and then his vision blurred and his mind went blank.

**

When his bedroom door closed, Tom rolled onto his back and returned his gaze to the ceiling.  He knew if he stayed at the group home and allowed the abuse to continue, he would be no better off than he had been in El Salvador.  Silent tears slid down his cheeks as he remembered the only man who had shown him any love and understanding.  He missed the kindness Dennis had shown him but he doubted the ex-police officer would forgive him for the way he had spoken to him.  

Turning onto his side, he sobbed into his pillow.  He hated the confusion that continuously clouded his mind and made him feel as though he was on an emotional roller coaster, one minute climbing to giddy, heart-pounding highs before plummeting to stomach churning lows.  He constantly alternated between tranquil acceptance and violent rages.  It was an exhausting way to live and Tom wondered if he was slowly losing his mind.

Closing his eyes, he envisioned Dennis’ calm, handsome face smiling at him and he knew that he was only person who could help him to excise his demons.

**

Heavy droplets of rain splattered the windscreen and when the downpour intensified, Booker turned on the car’s wipers so he could see where he was going.  As he drove through the busy nighttime traffic, his mind mulled over his latest case.  Since Tom’s release three weeks prior, Dennis had thrown himself back into work in an effort to take his mind off losing his friend.  Tom’s bitter tirade at the hospital still pained him but he knew that he now needed to move on and try to forget about Tom Hanson.  He had never expected Tom to feel indebted to him but he had been surprised at the level of his hostility.  On the day of the court hearing, Dennis had considered turning up so he could find out the details of Hanson’s new living arrangements.  But the more he thought about it, the more he realized it was a bad idea.  Tom had made it abundantly clear that he did not want Booker in his life and as difficult as it was, Dennis knew he needed to respect Hanson’s wishes and not interfere with his life.  In an effort to give Tom some level of support, Dennis had phoned Doug and begged him to make contact with Hanson.  But Penhall’s response had been noncommittal and Dennis had his doubts as to whether Doug even cared about Hanson’s welfare anymore.  It was heartbreaking for Dennis to imagine Tom completely on his own, with no parents or friends by his side to help him transition back into the world, but there was nothing else he could do.  Tom had made it clear that he no longer wanted him in his life and therefore, Booker needed to walk away and leave him alone.

As he drove past his apartment building and turned into the underground resident’s car park, Booker noticed a man sitting huddled in the doorway of the main entrance.  There had been several complaints by tenants of vagrants sleeping on the wide concrete steps of the building and Dennis wondered if a homeless man was seeking shelter from the rain.  After parking his car, Dennis walked back onto the street and hunching his shoulders against the rain, he approached the man, his intention being to offer him money for a hotel room.  As he neared the doorway, the man looked up and Booker’s heart skipped a beat as he gazed down into Tom’s dark, tortured eyes.  Emotion rendered him speechless and a large lump formed in his throat.  

Standing up slowly, Tom gave Booker a sad smile.  “Hey Dennis.”

Swallowing down the lump, Booker managed to return the smile.  “Tommy,” he murmured softly.  “It’s so good to see you.  Is everything okay?”

Hanson shrugged his shoulders noncommittally.  “I guess,” he replied quietly but his expression belied his words.  Wrapping his arms around his wet body, he nodded his head towards the door.  “Can we talk?”

Still stunned by Tom’s arrival on his doorstep, Booker took a moment to process the words. Shaking his head slightly to clear his mind, he quickly gathered his thoughts.  “Of course.  C’mon, let’s get out of the rain.”

Entering the code on the security keypad, Dennis led the way into the building.  He cast a furtive glance at Tom and was shocked when he registered Hanson’s disheveled appearance.  Tom’s hair was tangled and dirty and his clothes were too big for his slim body.  But what upset Booker the most was the dead expression in Tom’s eyes.  He appeared switched off from the world, as though he was running on autopilot with no connection to those around him.  For Booker, it was not a good sign.  Tom had only been out of Glenfield for three weeks and already he looked like he needed help.

Exiting the elevator, the two men walked in silence down the corridor before stopping outside Booker’s apartment.  Unlocking the door, Dennis stood back and motioned for Tom to enter.  He watched as Hanson’s eyes traveled around the living area and he wondered how much Tom remembered about staying there.  Closing the door, Dennis went into the bathroom and emerged a moment later carrying a large towel.  “Here,” he said quietly.  “You’re soaked through.”

Taking the towel, Tom managed a wan smile.  “Thanks,” he muttered as he lightly toweled his dripping hair.   

Realizing that a towel was not going to make much difference in making Tom comfortable, Booker let out an audible sigh.  “This is ridiculous.  C’mon, you can borrow some of my clothes.”

Turning away, he walked into the bedroom and was pleased when Tom followed.  Pulling out a t-shirt and sweatpants, he handed them to Tom before exiting the room and closing the door.  As he waited for Tom to change, he busied himself making coffee as he tried to calm his frantic thoughts.  He knew he needed to be careful not to come on too strong and overwhelm Tom with questions but he was desperate to know why Hanson had been sitting on his doorstep.  Judging by his appearance, Tom was not coping well integrating back into society.  Dennis felt his temper rise and he wondered why Tom was not receiving follow up care.  It was so typical of the revolving door medical system; diagnose them, treat them and send them on their way.  It was the same sad story all over the country and it came as no surprise to Booker that the streets were fast becoming filled with people suffering from a mental illness.

Tom emerged wearing the clean, dry clothes.  Pouring two cups of coffee, Dennis carried them into the living room.  “Have a seat,” he offered, handing a cup of sweet black coffee to Tom.  “Are you hungry?”

Shaking his head, Tom placed his cup on the coffee table and sat down.  He gave Booker a weary look.  “I guess you’re surprised to see me, especially after…” his voice trailed off and he dropped his gaze as his shoulders sagged.

Pain filled Dennis’ heart and he immediately forgot his pledge not to come on too strong.  When Tom had changed into the t-shirt, Dennis had noticed the bruising around his neck and he knew something was terribly wrong.  Sitting down, he wrapped his arms around Hanson and pulled him close.  “Jesus Tommy,” he murmured.  “What the hell is going on?  Who’s been hurting you?”  

A loud sob caught in Tom’s throat.  “I never thought I’d feel so alone,” he cried, unrestrained tears streaming down his face.

Booker gently stroked Tom’s hair.  “Shh, it’s okay.  You’re not alone Tommy, I’m here for you.  I’ll always be here for you but you need to tell me what’s going on.”

Tom calmed immediately under Dennis’ touch.  Lifting his face, he gazed deep into Dennis’ dark eyes.  “Why do you keep helping me?” he asked quietly.  “When we worked together I didn’t even like you and yet you’re the only person who seems to give a fuck about me.”

Deciding to keep the level of his infatuation a secret, Booker gave a half smile.  “I dunno.  I guess I don’t hate you as much as you hate me.”

Tom’s eyes filled with sadness.  “I don’t hate you Booker… I don’t really know you.”

The honesty of Tom’s words cut deep into Dennis’ heart but he kept his emotions in check.  It was true, the Tom he knew was the scared, vulnerable shell of Tom Hanson and he wondered if he could love the Tom Hanson who sat before him now.  But as he stared into Tom’s brown eyes he knew that this time, he could not walk away.  Whatever happened, he would do everything in his power to help Tom find peace and happiness in his life.   



	13. Speak to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously:  A loud sob caught in Tom’s throat.  “I never thought I’d feel so alone,” he cried, unrestrained tears streaming down his face._
> 
> _Booker gently stroked Tom’s hair.  “Shh, it’s okay.  You’re not alone Tommy, I’m here for you.  I’ll always be here for you but you need to tell me what’s going on.”_
> 
> _Tom calmed immediately under Dennis’ touch.  Lifting his face, he gazed deep into Dennis’ dark eyes.  “Why do you keep helping me?” he asked quietly.  “When we worked together I didn’t even like you and yet you’re the only person who seems to give a fuck about me.”_
> 
> _Deciding to keep the level of his infatuation a secret, Booker gave a half smile.  “I dunno.  I guess I don’t hate you as much as you hate me.”_
> 
> _Tom’s eyes filled with sadness.  “I don’t hate you Booker… I don’t really know you.”_
> 
> _The honesty of Tom’s words cut deep into Dennis’ heart but he kept his emotions in check.  It was true, the Tom he knew was the scared, vulnerable shell of Tom Hanson and he wondered if he could love the Tom Hanson who sat before him now.  But as he stared into Tom’s brown eyes he knew that this time, he could not walk away.  Whatever happened, he would do everything in his power to help Tom find peace and happiness in his life._

**Speak to Me**  

A cold cup of coffee sat on the table next to Dennis.  He had instantly forgotten about it once Tom started talking about his life since leaving the confines of Glenfield.  Booker felt sick as Tom recounted how Grant Powell had cleverly preyed upon his vulnerabilities and insecurities.  Hanson did not divulge how he received the bruising around his throat but Booker immediately recalled Emily Adams mentioning that when they admitted Tom to the hospital, a dog collar was around his neck.  Dennis’ stomach lurched when he thought that Tom might be seeking to relive his time in captivity because being submissive was now the only way he knew how to please people.  Dennis’ anger rose and for a fraction of a second he considered picking up the phone and giving Doctor Williams a piece of his mind.  But when he looked into Tom’s tired, anxious face, he knew his first priority was to make his friend feel safe and cared for.  He offered Tom a bed for the night and was pleased when he had not refused.  Returning from making up his bed with fresh sheets, Dennis found Tom already asleep on the couch, his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped protectively around his body.  Finding a blanket, Dennis carefully covered Tom’s thin frame.  Satisfied that he was comfortable, he sat down and played the night’s events over in his mind.

As the hours ticked by, Dennis’ eyes grew heavy and he fell into a light slumber.  Minutes later, a loud cry pulled him back to reality and he rubbed at his eyes as his gaze found Tom.  Although still asleep, Hanson’s body twitched violently as he began to scream.  “NO ME HAGAS DAÑO!  NO ME HAGAS DAÑO!”  _DON’T HURT ME!  DON’T HURT ME!_

Leaping out of his chair, Booker ran over and dropping to his knees, he pulled Tom into his arms.  “Shh Tommy, wake up.  Wake up!  It’s okay.  It’s okay.”

Tom’s eyes flew open, his expression full of panic.  Breaking free of Dennis’ hold, he struggled to stand up but his head spun as a bout of dizziness hit him and he collapsed back onto the couch.  Leaning forward, he threw up onto the floor, his breath hitching in his throat and he started to cry with embarrassment.  He felt Dennis’ hand gently stroking his hair and memories of El Salvador intensified his grief.  Drawing his knees up to his chin, he wrapped his arms around his legs and buried his head as he sobbed uncontrollably.    
    
Tears filled Dennis’ eyes and he encircled his arms around Tom’s stiff body.  This time, Tom relaxed into the warm embrace and he sobbed against Dennis’ chest.  “I’m s-sorry D-Dennis,” he cried.  “I’m s-so fucking s-sorry!”

Lifting Tom’s face, Dennis gazed at him with concern.  “I don’t care about that,” he soothed, motioning towards the mess on the floor.  “I want to know if you’re okay?”

Wiping away his tears, Tom nodded.  “I s-stopped taking my m-medication,” he hiccuped.  “I’ve b-been feeling unwell e-ever since.”

Dennis frowned.  “Do you think that’s wise?  I mean… have you spoken to a doctor about—”

“I DON’T NEED ANY MORE FUCKING DOCTORS!” Tom yelled, his mood instantly changing.  “I CAN MAKE MY OWN FUCKING DECISIONS!”

Surprised by the sudden change in Tom’s demeanor, Booker pulled away.  Standing up, he went into the kitchen and filled a bucket with warm water.  Grabbing a roll of paper towel, he returned to the living room and started to clean up the vomit.  Tom sat chewing on his fingernails, his mood once again contrite.  “I’m sorry Dennis,” he mumbled softly.  “I didn’t mean to yell.”

“It’s okay Tom,” Dennis replied with a sigh.  Glancing at the clock, he stood up.  “Maybe a good night’s sleep will help.  You take the bed and I’ll take the couch.  There’s a new toothbrush in the bathroom cupboard and I’ve left a towel on the bed.  Do you need anything else?”

Shaking his head, Tom stood up and walked into the bedroom, softly closing the door behind him.  Dennis stared at the closed door for several minutes before picking up the bucket and walking into the bathroom.  He emptied the filthy water into the sink, returned to the kitchen and threw the used paper towel into the trash.  After switching off the lights, he lay down on the couch and rested his head on a cushion as he pulled the blanket over his body.  He doubted he would be able to sleep, so he picked up the remote and flicked through the TV channels, finally settling on a Clint Eastwood movie.  But within minutes, his eyes grew heavy and he fell into a troubled slumber.

**

Waking  from a disturbed sleep, Dennis stretched out his arms and yawned loudly.  Glancing over at the wall clock, he groaned when he saw it was nearly 5am.  Swinging his legs over the edge of the couch, he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.  As the clock struck five, he stood up and padded quietly into the bathroom so as not to wake Tom.  Closing the door, he relieved his bladder before undressing and turning on the shower.  Stepping into the cubicle, he sighed contentedly as the warm water cascaded over his body.  As was his usual practice, his fingers lightly played over his early morning erection and bracing his free hand against the white tiled wall, he dropped his head and moaned with pleasure as he teased his cock to life.  Although he was skilled at bringing himself to a euphoric release, he missed the intimacy of sharing a sexual encounter with another person.  His last such experience had been when he had woken to the exquisite sensation of Tom’s hand wrapped around his cock, slowly jerking him off.  He moaned loudly at the memory of Tom’s fingers tugging at his erection and his pace immediately intensified.  As his fist pumped over his aching cock, he felt his orgasm rising and he began to pant.  Moments later, he cried out as he climaxed, his semen coating his fingers before the warm water washed it away.  He continued to fondle himself whilst he enjoyed the afterglow of his release.  After a few minutes, he sighed heavily and picking up the soap, he lathered his muscular body.  He finished up by washing his hair and when he was clean from head to toe, he turned off the faucets and stepped out of the shower.  Having toweled himself dry, he brushed his teeth before running his fingers through his damp hair.  

Wrapping his towel around his waist, he exited the bathroom.  Standing outside his bedroom, he paused for a moment before quietly opening the door.  Tom lay on his side with his eyes closed, the disheveled bed sheets indicating that he had endured a restless night’s sleep.  Booker tiptoed into the room and began rummaging through his drawers for some clean clothes.  He jumped slightly when Tom spoke.  “It’s okay Dennis, I’m awake.”

Switching on the overhead light, Booker was shocked to see how fatigued Tom looked.  His face was deathly pale and dark smudges blackened the skin beneath his eyes.  Grabbing out a pair of boxers and a black t-shirt, Dennis walked across the room and sat on the edge of the bed.  Tom struggled to a sitting position and attempted to give Booker a smile.  But his façade quickly crumbled and tears of exhaustion filled his eyes.  Dennis draped an arm around Hanson’s shoulders and pulled him close.  Tom rested his head against Booker’s shoulder and let out an audible sigh.  “Sorry,” he mumbled.  “I’m just so fucking tired.”

Dennis gave Tom a gentle squeeze.  “It’s still early days Tommy, it’s going to take some time for you to readjust.”

Tom rubbed at his eyes before lifting his head and gazing beseechingly into Booker’s eyes.  “I don’t want to go back,” he whispered.  “Please don’t send me back.”

Booker gave Tom a comforting hug.  “Of course you’re not going back.  I’ll go and get your things and you can move in here.”  He paused for a moment before giving an uncertain smile.  “I mean… that’s if you _want_ to live here with me.”

“Yeah I do,” Hanson replied, the relief he felt evident in the tone of his voice.  “Thanks.”

Standing up, Dennis smiled warmly.  “That’s settled then.  Now, try and get some sleep, it’s still early.”

Tom lay back on the bed and closed his eyes.  Dennis picked up his clothing and exited the room, softly closing the door behind him.  As he dressed in his clean clothes, he began to think about visiting the group home where Tom had been living.  A vicious smile played over his lips as he planned on how to teach Grant Powell a lesson he would never forget.

**

Booker stood on the doorstep of the large 1920s house.  He rang the bell and waited, his hands slowly clenching and unclenching into tight balls.  When the door opened, he gave a bright smile to the man in front of him.  “Hi, I’m looking for Grant Powell.”

“I’m Grant,” the man replied pleasantly.  “How can I—”

Powell’s next words were immediately cut off as Booker let out a loud yell and rushing forward, he brutally slamming the stunned man against the interior wall.  Wrapping his hand around Powell’s throat, he pinned the startled man against the wall.  As his fingers squeezed tight, Powell’s eyes bulged and he began to struggle.  Releasing his grip slightly, Booker tilted his head on one side and gave a menacing grin.  “How does it feel to be choked?” he asked quietly.  

“Can’t… breathe,” Powell gasped, his fingers clawing frantically at Booker’s hand.

Dennis squeezed for several more seconds before releasing his hold.  Powell doubled over, coughing loudly as he struggled to regain his breath.  When he eventually straightened, he gave Booker a confused look.  “Who the hell are you?” he croaked.

Narrowing his eyes, Booker gave the man a hard stare.  “I’m a friend of Tom’s,” he replied menacingly.  “And if you _EVER_ lay a finger on him again, I’ll hunt you down and give you the beating of your life.  Understand?”

Powell’s eyes widened with fear and he frantically nodded his head.  “Good,” Dennis murmured.  “Now, I’m here to pick up Tom’s belongings.  He won’t be living here anymore.”

With a shaky hand, Powell pointed up the stairs.  “U-up th-there,” he stuttered nervously.  “S-second r-room on the r-right.”

Reaching out, Booker patted Powell’s cheek.  “Thanks Grant,” he replied quietly.  “You’ve been a great help.”

Powell shrank away from Dennis’ touch.  When Booker turned and walked up the stairs, he watched on silently, too afraid to move.

**

Returning home, Dennis tossed Tom’s bag onto the couch.  Quietly opening the bedroom door, he smiled when he saw Tom lying peacefully asleep on the bed, the sheet pulled protectively up to his chin.  Closing the door, he went into the kitchen a poured himself a cup of strong, sweet coffee.  Sitting down, he sipped at the steaming brew whilst he pondered over how quickly his life had changed in the space of less than twenty-four hours.  He wondered how different his life would be now that he had managed to get Tom to agree to stay with him.  He hoped that he could be a positive influence in Tom’s rehabilitation and help him transition back into a stable way of life.  But as he mentally mapped out the best way to help Tom, he had no idea what a roller coaster ride it was going to be and that Tom would have to reach rock bottom before being able to rebuild his life.


	14. Coming Back to Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Returning home, Dennis tossed Tom’s bag onto the couch.  Quietly opening the bedroom door, he smiled when he saw Tom lying peacefully asleep on the bed, the sheet pulled protectively up to his chin.  Closing the door, he went into the kitchen a poured himself a cup of strong, sweet coffee.  Sitting down, he sipped at the steaming brew whilst he pondered over how quickly his life had changed in the space of less than twenty-four hours.  He wondered how different his life would be now that he had managed to get Tom to agree to stay with him.  He hoped that he could be a positive influence in Tom’s rehabilitation and help him transition back into a stable way of life.  But as he mentally mapped out the best way to help Tom, he had no idea what a rollercoaster ride it was going to be and that Tom would reach rock bottom before finally being able to rebuild his life._

**Coming Back to Life**  

The  next week passed by in a haze for Tom.  Still suffering from the side effects of coming off his medications, he spent most of his time in bed, drifting in and out of the nightmares that plagued his sleep.  He often woke up screaming, his body drenched in sweat as he frantically begged unseen men not to hurt him.  Booker spent many hours sitting on the bed, gently rocking Tom in his arms whilst quietly reassuring him that he would never let anyone harm him again.  Once calmed, Tom would bow his head, silently urging Dennis to stroke his hair in the comforting way that he associated with feeling safe.  As Booker ran his fingers through Hanson’s tousled hair, his thoughts would turn to El Salvador and the broken man that he had found lying in a hospital bed in the city of Ahuachapán.  Tom still had a long way to go with his recovery but Booker was relieved that he could at least be by his friend’s side during the difficult times.

Dennis set up a home office so he could continue to work in a limited capacity whilst keeping an eye on Hanson.  It took time, but Tom’s nausea and dizziness eventually became less frequent and he spent fewer hours lying listlessly in bed.  He still had trouble sleeping and the nightmares he suffered were just as terrifying but he was slowly beginning to reassert himself back into the world.  His first transition was from the bed to the couch, where he spent hours watching television.  During this time, he rarely showered and it was as though he had no interest in his appearance.  He barely ate, choosing to live off cans of soup and bottles of coke.  Although worried, Booker chose not to intervene.  Instead, he patiently waited for the next phase of Tom’s recovery to begin.  

A  fortnight later he was rewarded when Tom started showering every morning.  It was a small step but Booker could see a new Tom slowly emerging like a butterfly from its cocoon.  As his health improved, so did Tom’s appetite.  With each new hurdle conquered, his confidence grew and he gradually became more interested in his surroundings.  It was during this time that Booker reintroduced Tom to the outside world.  He started slow, taking him out for leisurely drives to the Joshua Tree National Park where they walked along the hiking trails, silently taking in the beauty of the nature around them.  As Tom’s spirits lifted, they began frequenting trendy cafés and restaurants several times a week.  Although steadily becoming more self-assured, Tom barely spoke more than a few words at a time.  He rarely revealed how he was feeling and the only time Dennis felt truly close to Tom was when he held him in his arms and gently stroked his hair after one of his night terrors.  It was not the relationship Dennis had initially wished for but he was grateful for every moment he spent with Tom.  All he could do was hope that in time, Tom would value their friendship as much as he did.

Six  weeks after moving in with Dennis, Tom emerged one evening dressed in a dark blue button-down shirt, tight denim jeans and boots.  Booker looked up from his paperwork and his eyes widened as he took in Hanson’s appearance.  Never before could he remember Tom looking so beautiful and his heart hammered in his chest as he became instantly aroused and he swallowed deeply in an attempt to calm himself.  Standing up, he managed a smile.  “Wow Tom, why the fancy clothes?  I thought we were ordering in pizza tonight.”

Tom shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, refusing to meet Dennis’ gaze.  “I want to go out,” he mumbled.

Booker was somewhat taken aback by Tom initiating a proposed outing.  Pulling himself together, he checked his watch.  “Okay, just give me a minute and I’ll—”

“No!” Tom replied forcefully.  “I don’t want to go out with you, I want to go out on my own.”

Wounded by Hanson’s bluntness, Dennis stared back open mouthed.  Pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, he quickly gathered his thoughts.  “Um, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea Tom,” he replied quietly.  

As soon as Booker spoke, Tom’s mood darkened even further.  “I don’t care what _you_ think, I’m going out whether you like it or not.”

Raking his fingers through his hair, Dennis attempted to reason with Tom.  “C’mon Tommy, think about it.  You haven’t been out on your own in weeks.  Why not take it slow, you know ease back into it.”

Ignoring Booker’s plea, Hanson held out his hand.  “I need money,” he demanded coldly.

Beginning to lose his temper, Dennis glared back angrily.  “And what if I don’t give you any, what are you going to do then, huh?”

Hanson smiled callously.  “There are other ways I can get money Dennis,” he purred softly.  “In case you’ve forgotten, I have a lot experience in making men happy.”

A look of horror washed over Booker’s face.  Tom’s words were like a knife to the heart and he suddenly wondered if he even knew the man standing before him.  Realizing that Tom was determined to go out with or without money, he reached into his pocket with a shaky hand and pulled out several large bills.  “Here,” he muttered, handing them to Tom.  “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

Taking the money, Tom gave Booker an impassive look.  “I’ve been to hell Dennis,” he replied flatly.  “There’s nothing more that can happen to me.”

Shoving the notes into his pocket, he turned away and exited the apartment, slamming the door behind him. 

**

Rolling  onto his side, Dennis sighed when he heard the clock strike four.  Sitting up, he turned on the table lamp and rubbed his face with his hands.  It was the sixth consecutive night that Tom had gone out alone and each night he returned in the early hours of the morning reeking of cheap whiskey.  He spent his days sleeping, re-emerging late in the afternoon to eat whatever leftovers were in the fridge before getting ready to go out again.  On the third night, he returned home with his neck covered in love bites and Dennis felt a jealous rage rising within him.  Tom made no effort to hide the signs of his sexual exploits and as each day passed, Booker became more and more resentful.  It hurt him that Hanson flaunted his conquests so proudly even though he had never told Tom how he felt about him.  As far as Dennis knew, Tom had no recollection of their time together in El Salvador, except that he had taken care of him.  However, deep down he had a feeling that Hanson was deliberately goading him and that he was waiting for Dennis to react to his behavior.  But Booker remained silent, refusing to be drawn into whatever game Tom was playing.

Standing up, he walked into the kitchen and began to prepare a pot of coffee.  He heard the front door open and close but he did not turn around and greet Tom.  Instead, he pretended that he had not heard Hanson enter and continued to busy himself with his task.  A moment later, he felt hot breath on the back of his neck, causing goose bumps to prickle his skin.  “Good… you’re up,” Tom murmured softly, the smell of whiskey assaulting Dennis’ nostrils.

Feeling Tom pressing against him, Dennis twisted his head around and met Hanson’s coked up stare.  His body stiffened as Tom’s hands wandered over his torso, stopping to rest on his stomach.  Hanson’s hand moved slowly downwards and Dennis gasped as nimble fingers lightly fondled his cock through the material of his boxers.  “You like that, don’t you Dennis?” Hanson muttered, delighting in the feel of Booker’s erection growing in his hand.  

“Stop,” Dennis whispered, powerless to move away from Tom’s probing fingers.  “Tommy, what are you—”

“Shh,” Tom breathed against Booker’s ear as he began to rub his own large erection against Dennis’ backside.  “I know you want it Dennis and we can have so much fun.  I’ll ride you so hard, you’ll pop like warm champagne.”

The sound of Dennis’ labored breathing resonated around the room.  “Oh God Tommy… please stop,” he pleaded.  

Ignoring the request, Tom nibbled seductively on Dennis’ earlobe.  “Make me,” he taunted, his fingers tugging at Booker’s erection.

The teasing tone of Hanson’s voice had an immediate effect on Dennis.  Turning swiftly around, he shoved Tom violently away.  “I said _STOP!”_

Tom let out a hollow laugh.  “What’s the matter Dennis?  Doesn’t sane Tommy turn you on?  Maybe you still fantasize about poor little damaged Tommy.”  Stepping forward, he trailed a finger lightly down Booker’s stomach.  “Quieres lefa Den- _nis?”_ he tormented softly, his thumb rubbing over Booker’s engorged cockhead.  

Dennis slapped Tom’s hand away.  “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” he yelled.  “WHY THE HELL ARE YOU DOING THIS?”

Tom tilted his head on one side as though considering the question.  “Gee Dennis, let me think, what could be wrong with me?” he asked sarcastically.  “Maybe the reason I’m so fucked up is because I went to El Salvador to help my best friend.  I get kidnapped, I’m tortured and oh yes, let’s not forget, I was _raped!_   But the funny thing is, this _so-called_ friend hasn’t even bothered to contact me since I got back, so I guess the joke’s on me, huh.”

Tears filled Dennis’ eyes.  “Tommy don’t—”

“WAIT!” Hanson shouted, waving his arms crazily above his head, the effects of his recent cocaine use evident by his dilated pupils.  “The best is still to come.  I’m rescued by the last person on this earth that I thought would ever give a fuck about me.  He cared for me.  Hell… I think he even loved me and for the first time in two fucking years, I felt safe.”  Hot tears began to stream down Tom’s face.  “And then… well, I think we all know what happened next, don’t we?  He sent me away.  He fucking sent me away and I was tortured again.  They zapped my fucking brain with 120 volts of electricity!”  

Tom’s demeanor changed and he gazed at Dennis with sad, bewildered eyes.  “Why did they do that?” he whispered, a sob catching in his throat.  “Why did they hurt me?”

Dennis’ own tears began to flow.  “I’m sorry Tommy,” he cried, stepping forward and attempting to pull Hanson into his arms.  “I _had_ to send you away.  You needed help.”

“I NEEDED _YOU!”_ Tom screamed hysterically, shoving Dennis violently away.  “Why couldn’t you see that?”

“Oh God Tommy, I’m sorry!  I’m so fucking sorry!”  Dennis wept.  “ _Please!  Please_ forgive me.  I only did what I thought was best.”

“FUCK YOU!” Hanson screamed, his eyes flashing crazily.  “You should have left me in El Salvador to die!” 

“Don’t say that Tom, _please_ don’t say that,” Dennis begged, unable to accept that Tom really felt that way.

“Why not?” Hanson asked flatly, his rage suddenly replaced by despondency.  “Maybe I’d be better off.”  

Before Dennis could respond, he turned away and walked slowly out of the apartment, quietly closing the door behind him.

**

When the clock struck twelve, signaling midnight and the start of a new day, Dennis leaned over and switched on the table lamp.  He had been sitting in darkness for hours, desperately waiting for Tom to walk back through the door.  But as the hours passed, he began to realize that it was doubtful that Hanson would ever come home.  A cold fear gripped his heart at the thought of Tom wandering through the dangerous LA streets alone.  Everything he had done for Tom had led to this solitary moment in time.  It was his fault, all of it and for the first time since rescuing him, Dennis began to wonder if it would have been better if Tom had never been found at all.


	15. Comfortably Numb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously:  “FUCK YOU!” Hanson screamed, his eyes flashing crazily.  “You should have left me in El Salvador to die!”_
> 
> _“Don’t say that Tom, please don’t say that,” Dennis begged, unable to accept that Tom really felt that way._
> 
> _“Why not?” Hanson asked flatly, his rage suddenly replaced by despondency.  “Maybe I’d be better off.”_
> 
> _Before Dennis could respond, he turned away and walked slowly out of the apartment, quietly closing the door behind him._
> 
> _**_
> 
> _When the clock struck twelve, signaling midnight and the start of a new day, Dennis leant over and switched on the table lamp.  He had been sitting in darkness for hours, desperately waiting for Tom to walk back through the door.  But as the hours passed, he began to realize that it was doubtful that Hanson would ever come home.  A cold fear gripped his heart at the thought of Tom wandering through the dangerous LA streets alone.  Everything he had done for Tom had led to this solitary moment in time.  It was his fault, all of it and for the first time since rescuing him, Dennis began to wonder if it would have been better if Tom had never been found at all._

**Comfortably Numb**

_Four months later_

The sensation of tiny feet scampering over his body woke Tom from a restless sleep.  With a yelp, he swiped at the rat sitting on his stomach.  The small, hairy mammal squeaked in protest as it hit the floor and quickly scurried away.  Groaning loudly, Tom raised himself to a sitting position.  He felt his stomach lurch and turning his head, he spewed up watery bile from his empty stomach.  Running a shaky hand through his dirty hair, his mind instantly turned to his next fix.  He needed money but most of all, he needed to get himself cleaned up.  No one would pay him for sex looking and smelling the way he did.  Struggling to his feet, he steadied himself against the graffitied wall as the room swam in front of him.  Another wave of nausea washed over him and bending over, he vomited for the second time.  Wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt, he raised his head and gazed at his surroundings.  Several other homeless people lay sleeping in the dilapidated room of the disused warehouse.  Tom vaguely remembered arriving at the building with another vagrant named Henry but try as he might, he could not remember if they had gotten high together.  His shaky hands and intense craving for a hit told him that is was most probable that they had not.  The stale taste of whiskey in his mouth triggered a memory and looking down, he saw two empty bottles of cheap, rot gut whiskey lying on the cement floor.  There was no sign of Henry and Tom briefly wondered if the man was okay.  But he quickly pushed the thought away.  He only had the capacity to worry about himself, everyone else was on their own.

Turning to face the muralled wall, he unzipped his jeans and relieved his bladder.  After zipping up, he walked unsteadily out of the building and into the light drizzling rain.  Judging by the lack of people on the streets, it was still early.  Smiling, Hanson began to walk along the wet footpath towards 48th Street.  Early was good.  Early meant he might get a shower.

Stopping outside the homeless shelter, Tom pressed the buzzer.  He waited impatiently for the door to open as he attempted to shield himself from the rain in the narrow entranceway.  Several minutes passed before the large wooden door opened and Gerald, the manager of the refuge, stared out through the security gate.  Recognizing Hanson, he gave Tom a smile.  “What can I do for you Tom?  I’m afraid we’re full up.”

Tom smiled back.  He had a lot of respect for Gerald Cooper.  He was a fair but strict man who did not tolerate rule breakers within his establishment.  He ran a clean house.  No drink, no drugs and no sex.  Most of his funding came from his own inventiveness.  He coordinated art exhibitions in wealthy neighborhoods and he took twenty percent of the takings as his fee.  He reinvested the money back into the shelter, along with any other donations that came his way.  That and the small amount that he received from the city allowed him to provide a warm bed for fifteen men plus a hot meal and bathroom facilities.  He also gave out clean clothing, which was kindly donated by the local Catholic Church.  The amenities were a Godsend to all the homeless men living within a five-block radius of 48th Street, who without the shelter, would have to live rough three-hundred and sixty-five days of the year.

“Can I take a shower?” Tom asked politely, pushing his dirty hair out of his dark eyes.

Cooper looked Hanson up and down, trying to gauge his sobriety.  “Are you high Tom?” he inquired bluntly.  He had known Tom for several months and he was well aware of his addiction to heroin and cocaine.

Hanson shook his head.  “No sir,” he replied honestly.  “I only had a drink last night.”

Gerald knew that _only a drink_ meant at least a bottle.  But he had a soft spot for Tom and he often wondered how a well educated young man had ended up in such a dire situation.  It was not his place to pry but when he looked deep into Tom’s eyes, he saw a man with a tortured soul.  Having been in the business for many years, he was used to the tormented expressions that the homeless often wore.  But Hanson was different.  His pain sat deeper than most and Gerald knew that he must have experienced something unbelievably terrifying for it to leave such an obvious mark.

Unable to turn Tom away, he unlocked the wrought iron gate.  “Come on in.  I’ll see if I can find you some clean clothes too.”

Sighing with relief, Tom entered the building.  He had not showered for weeks and he was longing to scrub the grime of the streets and the scent of the men he had pleasured, off his fatigued body.  Plus, once he was clean, he would be able to concentrate on finding his next fix.

**

Now that he was showered and wearing clean, secondhand clothing, Hanson set about finding a dealer so he could score.  He felt in high spirits, especially because he also had a full stomach of oatmeal that Gerald had kindly prepared for him.  Wandering through the inner city streets, which were beginning to come alive with early morning commuters, Tom’s eyes scanned the various men loitering on street corners in search of a dealer nicknamed _Thumper_.  Tom knew he would supply him with cocaine in exchange for sex.  He needed the coke to fuel his sexual appetite so he could prostitute himself for money.  His ultimate aim was to make enough so he could buy some heroin.  He longed for the rush he felt just moments after injecting the liquid gold into his veins.  The heaviness in his limbs and the radiating warmth in his chest had a soothing affect and it was the only time he felt truly at peace.

He smiled when he spotted Thumper leaning casually against a light post.  Walking over, he gazed at the man seductively.  “Hey Thumper.”

Thumper’s eyes traveled over Hanson’s body and he felt a shiver of anticipation run down his spine.  Out of all the men and women he supplied, Tom was the one who made him the horniest.  Tom was the most beautiful man he had ever met and he was also the most willing to please and that combination made him irresistible to Thumper.  Licking his lips, he raised his eyebrows in greeting.  “What’s up Tommy?”

Shoving his shaky hands in his pockets, Hanson shrugged his shoulders.  “Not much.  I’m looking to score.”

A slow smile played over Thumper’s lips.  “You got money?” he asked.

Tom shook his head.  “I thought maybe we could cut a deal, you know… you do something for me… I do something for you...”

Thumper tilted his head on one side.  “And what exactly will you do for me Tommy?” he asked quietly, his pupils beginning to dilate at the thought of fucking Tom’s hot, tight ass.

Running a hand through his hair, Tom’s mouth twitched nervously.  “Whatever you want,” he muttered, not quite able to make eye contact with the young street dealer.

A wide grin split Thumper’s face.  “Excellent.  Now that we’ve settled the deal we can go have some fun.  C’mon, let’s find us somewhere private.”

Tom followed Thumper as he wound his way through the congested footpaths.  After several minutes, he turned into a narrow alleyway and pulling open a dented metal door, he entered a disused office building.  He quickly checked through the rooms before settling on a small space with faded blue carpet lining the floor.  Kicking off his shoes, he pulled his black Metallica t-shirt over his head.  Tom watched as he slowly pulled his belt free before taking off his jeans and throwing them to one side.  Wearing only a pair of faded boxers, he flexed the belt between his hands.  “C’mon Tommy,” he coaxed.  “I haven’t got all day.”

Hanson swallowed deeply.  “I need a snort,” he replied quietly.  “You know, to get me in the mood.”

Thumper bent over and scrounged through the pocket of his jeans.  Pulling out a small plastic bag of white powder, he tossed it to Hanson.  “Don’t use it all at once Tommy boy,” he teased.  

Walking over to a discarded office desk, Hanson pulled a small paper square out of his pocket and laid it on the table along with a BIC pen casing that he had chopped to about a third of its size and small retractable blade knife.  He carefully pulled a rock from the baggie and placed it on the square of paper.  Pushing open the blade of the knife, he tried to steady his hand as he cut the cocaine into a fine powder.  Once satisfied with the texture, he put down the knife and picked up the plastic pen casing.   Leaning forward, he snorted the white powder up his nostril.  Within minutes, he felt a rush of euphoria and turning to Thumper, he grinned playfully as he kicked off his boots.  The drug dealer watched on excitedly as Hanson stripped naked.  

Standing in the middle of the room, Tom waited for instructions.  Thumper pulled down his boxers and kicked them away.  “On your hands and knees,” he commanded, his cock already erect at the sight of Tom’s naked body.  Hanson dropped to his knees obediently and placed his hands on the floor.  He felt Thumper’s leather belt wrap around his throat and he moaned expectantly at what was to come.  He felt the stiff leather bite into his flesh and his cock began to swell.  From behind, he heard a condom wrapper rip open and a loud grunt as Thumper rolled the rubber sheath over his cock.  Moments later he felt Thumper’s unlubricated finger enter him and he winced with pain as the digit pushed past his tight ring of muscle.  As Thumper probed deep into his body, preparing him for what was to come, Tom’s cock became fully erect.  Thumper removed his finger and Tom felt his large erection pushing against his hole.  He slowly sucked in his breath and waited.  When Thumper pushed his cock deep inside his body, Tom let out a loud moan.  The belt tightened around his neck and the sensation caused his cock to weep.  “Sí, sí, sí,” he groaned loudly.  Lifting his right hand, he wrapped his fingers around his cock and started to masturbate.

Thumper grinned manically as he pounded in and out of Tom’s tight opening.  He loved how Tom always spoke in Spanish when he was being fucked.

As the belt slowly cut off his oxygen supply and Thumper’s cock slammed against his prostate, Tom felt his orgasm rising.  “Oh Dios… Oh sí!  Más rápido!  _Más rápido!”_   _Oh God... Oh yes!  Faster!  Faster!_

Thumper yanked on the belt and Tom’s eyes started to flutter as he gasped for breath.  When the young dealer cried out his release, Tom gurgled loudly and ejaculated forcefully over his fingers before collapsing onto the floor with Thumper falling heavily on top of him.  Panting loudly, Thumper pulled out of Tom’s body and released the belt from around his neck.  After checking that Hanson was breathing, he rolled onto the floor and lay on his back breathing rapidly.  When Tom’s eyes flickered open, he smiled at him with amusement.  “Thanks Tommy boy, that was one hell of a ride.”

Tom managed a weak grin in return and resting his head on his arm, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the last of the euphoric effects of the cocaine as his high slowly evaporated.  He knew that it would not be long before he craved another hit but he needed to pace himself so he could get out on the streets and make some money.  

Only then would he be able to buy what he ultimately yearned for. 


	16. The Thin Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: As the belt slowly cut off his oxygen supply and Thumper’s cock slammed against his prostate, Tom felt his orgasm rising.  “Oh Dios… Oh sí!  Más rápido!  Más rápido!”  Oh God… Oh yes!  Faster!  Faster!_
> 
> _Thumper yanked on the belt and Tom’s eyes started to flutter as he gasped for breath.  When the young dealer cried out his release, Tom gurgled loudly and ejaculated forcefully over his fingers before collapsing onto the floor with Thumper falling heavily on top of him.  Panting loudly, Thumper pulled out of Tom’s body and released the belt from around his neck.  After checking that Hanson was breathing, he rolled onto the floor and lay on his back breathing rapidly.  When Tom’s eyes flickered open, he smiled at him with amusement.  “Thanks Tommy boy, that was one hell of a ride.”_
> 
> _Tom managed a weak grin in return and resting his head on his arm, he closed his eyes and enjoyed the last of the euphoric effects of the cocaine as his high slowly evaporated.  He knew that it wouldn’t be long before he craved another hit but he needed to pace himself so he could get out on the streets and make some money._
> 
> _Only then would he be able to buy what he ultimately yearned for.  Heroin._

**The Thin Ice**  

The middle-aged man’s foul, hot breath exhaled against the back of Tom’s bruised neck.  “Do you like that whore?” he murmured against Hanson’s clammy skin.  He thrust his cock deeper into Tom’s body, groaning loudly at the tightness surrounding his shaft.  “Tell me you like it.”

Bracing his hands against the dirty brick wall, Tom stood with his legs apart and his head hanging down.  He felt sick, his need for a shot completely consuming his mind.  He wanted to please the man behind him, the man who was pumping his thick cock in and out of his abused body.  He always wanted to please but he also knew that if he did not do what the man wanted, he would likely receive a beating.  The man had paid him to act out a role and he needed to pull himself together or suffer the consequences.  “Sí señor,” he moaned as the man’s large hand tugged at his limp cock.  “Me gusta… me gusta.”  _I like… I like._

Unconvinced, the man grabbed a handful of Tom’s hair and yanked his head backwards.  “If you like it so much _Hermoso Puto_ , why aren’t you hard?” he growled into Tom’s ear.  Tears of pain leaked from Tom’s eyes and he cried out softly.  _Hermoso Puto_ was the nickname he had picked up on the streets because he always spoke Spanish whilst being fucked.  It translated to _Beautiful Whore_ and all the _johns_ who specifically searched the streets looking for Tom, thought the name was very apt.

Without warning, the man slammed Tom’s forehead against the hard brick wall.  “ _WELL?”_ he screamed.  “TELL ME WHY YOU’RE NOT HARD!”

Tom’s vision blurred and blood trickled into his eyes.  Breathing deeply, he ran his tongue over his cracked lips.  “Lo siento,” he muttered, willing his body to react to the man’s stimulation. “Quiero lefa… quiero lefa.”  _I’m sorry._    _I want to come… I want to come._

He now wished he had not snorted the last of his cocaine an hour before agreeing to have sex with the man who was still pounding his cock into his ass.  He was exhausted and he had no sexual desire, his limp cock testament to that fact.  Realizing that there was only one way to achieve an orgasm, he reached down and taking the man’s meaty hand in his, he placed it against his neck.  Knowing that the man would not understand Spanish, he spoke in English.  “Choke me,” he instructed quietly, twisting his head around to meet the man’s harsh gaze.  “I’ll come if you choke me.”

The man stopped his thrusting and a sadistic grin formed on his lips.  “Is that right?” he sneered.  “You’re one of those _gaspers_ are you?”

Bowing his head again, Tom nodded silently.  A moment later, he felt the man’s hand grasp at the front of his throat.  Relief flooded through him as the man applied gentle pressure and he felt his cock twitch.  Closing his eyes, he allowed his body to relax and enjoy the sensation as the man began to thrust back into his body.  “Oh sí,” he panted, his cock hardening as the man’s fingers tightened around his throat.  “Me gusta… me gusta.”  Callused fingers once again tugged at his cock and he felt his orgasm rising.  His airway constricted and he started to gasp.  “Oh Dios!” he managed to croak and his body trembled as he ejaculated over the man’s hand before slowly slipping into oblivion.

**

Deep in the sub consciousness of Tom’s mind, a voice resonated loudly.  Groaning, his eyes fluttered open as the voice slowly pulled him back to reality.  Struggling to a sitting position, his gaze gradually focused on the face of a stranger, a well-dressed man in his late forties.  Naked and vulnerable, Tom immediately cupped his hands over his crotch.  He tried to speak but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and all he could manage was a gurgling sound.  His eyes flitted around the room and he started to panic when he saw two other men standing in the shadows.  Returning his gaze to the first man, he eventually found his voice.  “What do you want?” he asked quietly, rubbing a shaky hand nervously across his upper lip.

The stranger gave a cold smile.  “We want _you_ Hermoso Puto.  Word on the street is, you’re the best fuck in town.”

Tom slowly shook his head.  “No.  I can’t… not now.  I’m sick, I need—”

The stranger slapped Tom hard across the face, the force spinning his head to one side.  A loud sob caught in his throat as the stranger grasped a handful of his hair and painfully pulled his face to within inches of his own.  “I’m not _asking_ whore, I’m _telling_.”

Real fear gripped Hanson’s heart and his body started to tremble.  “Please,” he begged in a whisper.  “I’m sick.  I need a fix”

The stranger turned to his friends and laughed.  “Fucking junkies.  Always bitching and whining.”

The two men snorted with amusement.  Turning his attention back to Tom, the man cocked his head on one side and gave him a piercing stare.  After several minutes, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a baggie of heroin.  He grinned when he saw Tom’s eyes light up with excitement.  Putting the baggie back in his pocket, he placed a hand on Tom’s shoulder and exhaled heavily.  “I’ll tell you what Puto.  If you give all three of us what we want, I’ll give you the smack.  Whatcha say, have we got a deal?”

Tears of fatigue filled Tom’s eyes.  He desperately wanted the heroin but he did not know if he could face a further three violations to his abused body.  However, the allure of the drug being within his reach was too much to resist.  If he could just get through the next hour then everything would be blissfully forgotten once the junk hit his vein.

Managing a shaky smile, he nodded his head and as the man lifted him to his feet, his mind went back to El Salvador and he took on the persona of _Hermoso Puto_ to help dull the pain.

**

When the last man withdrew from his body, Tom collapsed in a heap onto the cold cement floor.  He could vaguely hear the men talking but the screaming in his head blocked out the actual words.  Minutes passed before he became aware of the stranger’s presence beside him and opening his swollen eyes, he tried to focus on the man’s face.  He could see the man’s lips moving but the words made no sense to his addled brain.  A loud laugh echoed around the room and Tom felt something push into his hand.  Closing his eyes, he heard the men walk away and his mind began to acknowledge the pain in his body.  He had received a severe beating from the second man and his ribs throbbed painfully.  Lifting his head, he felt blood trickle down his face.  Wrapping an arm around his aching ribs, he struggled to a sitting position.  Reaching up to wipe the blood from his eyes, he became aware of the package in his hand.  His vision blurred and it took several moments to realize what he was holding.  A small smile twitched his lips.  The stranger had kept his promise and in his hand was a baggie of heroin.  

He instantly forgot his pain and struggling to his feet, he staggered over to his discarded clothing.  Dropping back to the floor, he searched through the pockets of his denim jacket and pulled out a rubber tourniquet, a small spoon, a red plastic lighter, a capped syringe, several cotton balls and a small plastic vial of water.  Not bothering to dress, he tied the tourniquet below his left bicep and pulled it tight with his teeth.  Next, he set about cooking up the heroin.  With shaky hands, he placed some heroin onto the spoon and carefully put it on the floor.  Pulling off the cap of the syringe with his teeth, he spat it onto the floor.   He opened the small vial of water and taking the syringe in his right hand, he carefully withdrew some of the liquid.  Holding the syringe between his teeth, he resealed the vial and tossed it onto the pile of clothes.  Picking up the spoon, he took hold of the syringe and squirted the water into the spoon.  It took several moments for his shaky hand to ignite the plastic lighter and he sighed with relief when the yellow flame finally flickered to life.  Placing the flame under the spoon, he began to heat the solution, pausing occasionally to give it a stir with the end of the syringe plunger.  Once satisfied that the heroin was completely dissolved, he wadded up a tiny piece of cotton ball and placed it into the brown liquid.  Picking up the syringe, he poked the tip into the cotton and slowly pulled back the plunger, sucking the drug into the plastic cylinder.  Discarding the spoon, he bent his arm and carefully inserted the needle into his vein.  When he pressed down on the plunger, he felt instant gratification as the drug hit his system and a warm glow radiated through his body.  

Moments later, he collapsed unconscious onto the floor.


	17. Wish You Were Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: When the last man withdrew from his body, Tom collapsed in a heap onto the cold cement floor.  He could vaguely hear the men talking but the screaming in his head blocked out the actual words.  Minutes passed before he became aware of the stranger’s presence beside him and opening his swollen eyes, he tried to focus on the man’s face.  He could see the man’s lips moving but the words made no sense to his addled brain.  A loud laugh echoed around the room and Tom felt something push into his hand.  Closing his eyes, he heard the men walk away and his mind began to acknowledge the pain in his body.  He had received a severe beating from the second man and his ribs throbbed painfully.  Lifting his head, he felt blood trickle down his face.  Wrapping an arm around his aching ribs, he struggled to a sitting position.  Reaching up to wipe the blood from his eyes, he became aware of the package in his hand.  His vision blurred and it took several moments to realize what he was holding.  A small smile twitched his lips.  The stranger had kept his promise and in his hand was a baggie of heroin._
> 
> _He instantly forgot his pain and struggling to his feet, he staggered over to his discarded clothing.  Dropping back to the floor, he searched through the pockets of his denim jacket and pulled out a rubber tourniquet, a small spoon, a red plastic lighter, a capped syringe, several cotton balls and a small plastic vial of water.  Not bothering to dress, he tied the tourniquet below his left bicep and pulled it tight with his teeth.  Next, he set about cooking up the heroin.  With shaky hands, he placed some heroin onto the spoon and carefully put it on the floor.  Pulling off the cap of the syringe with his teeth, he spat it onto the floor.   He opened the small vial of water and taking the syringe in his right hand, he carefully withdrew some of the liquid.  Holding the syringe between his teeth, he resealed the vial and tossed it onto the pile of clothes.  Picking up the spoon, he took hold of the syringe and squirted the water into the spoon.  It took several moments for his shaky hand to ignite the plastic lighter and he sighed with relief when the yellow flame finally flickered to life.  Placing the flame under the spoon, he began to heat the solution, pausing occasionally to give it a stir with the end of the syringe plunger.  Once satisfied that the heroin was completely dissolved, he wadded up a tiny piece of cotton ball and placed it into the brown liquid.  Picking up the syringe, he poked the tip into the cotton and slowly pulled back the plunger, sucking the drug into the plastic cylinder.  Discarding the spoon, he bent his arm and carefully inserted the needle into his vein.  When he pressed down on the plunger, he felt instant gratification as the drug hit his system and a warm glow radiated through his body._
> 
> _Moments later, he collapsed unconscious onto the floor._

**Wish You Were Here**  

Driving slowly through the inner city streets, Booker’s eyes desperately scanned the pavements in search of Tom.  Since Hanson had stormed from his apartment four months ago, he had spent almost every night searching the streets of Los Angeles for any sign of his friend.  His first thought had been that Tom might have returned to the group home.  However, after paying Grant Powell a visit, he was disappointed to find that Tom was not there.  Powell threatened to call the police if he ever showed up again and Booker had thrown back his head, laughing hysterically as he told the frightened man that he was the police, or at least he had been, once upon a time.  He continued his threat by adding that he still had friends in high places and they could make his life a living hell if he dared to abuse any more young men who crossed his threshold.  

After the heavy wooden door slammed closed, Booker had walked the streets surrounding the home, clinging to the hope that Tom would stay in familiar surroundings.  But his search proved unproductive and he had returned home feeling frustrated and disillusioned.  Over the ensuing weeks he had expanded his search, checking various shelters and known hangouts of the homeless.  It was a massive task, the city had a population of over three million people and for Booker, it felt as though he was searching for a needle in a haystack.  But he doggedly refused to give up hope.  Tom had integrated himself into his life and he was unable to let go, no matter what the cost.  Every night, as he lay alone in his bed, he thought about what he should have done differently.  He knew he had let Tom down and it brought tears to his eyes when he remembered Tom screaming at him, _“I needed YOU!”_   Now he wished that he had taken his time researching facilities before placing Tom in Glenfield.  Concerned that he was becoming less able to resist Tom’s sexual advances, he had hurriedly removed the source of his temptation, sending a scared and confused Tom to a hospital for six months without any visitations.  He hated himself for not being able to protect Tom after promising him he would never let any more harm come to him.  But most of all he hated the men who preyed on people like Tom.  It was difficult for him to comprehend how a human being could treat his fellow man with such cruelty.  He had witnessed many disturbing scenes during his time as a police officer but he was never able to come to terms with the callousness that occurred within the world.  

When a month passed and he had received no word on Tom’s whereabouts he decided to take his search to the next level.  He still had many contacts within the LAPD and he started to call in a few favors.  He sent Tom’s photograph to several precincts, requesting that the officers carry the photo on the off chance that they might spot Hanson whilst walking the beat.  It was a long shot but he knew that if Tom’s photo was constantly on display, it was more likely that an officer would recognize his face.

His second call was not an easy one to make.  He thought long and hard about it before eventually picking up the phone and placing a call through to Harry Ioki.  Ioki had been a fellow Jump Street officer and friend of Hanson’s who now worked vice.  But like Doug Penhall and Judy Hoffs, he had turned his back on Tom when he went missing, even when he knew Dennis had eventually found him.  Booker still felt a bitter resentment against the three officers who once upon a time had been so close to Tom.  But he made the decision to bury his anger, at least for the interim.  He needed to do what was best for Tom and he would not allow his own ego to get in the way of finding his friend.

Harry had been surprised to hear Booker’s voice on the end of the phone and he became increasingly quiet as Dennis explained the situation.  After a long moment’s pause, he had promised to search the database to see if there were any drug or prostitution charges in Tom’s name.  Dennis secretly hoped that Ioki’s search would not pull up anything of interest.  As much as he wanted to find his friend, he did not want to believe that he was now living as a drug-addicted prostitute.

Parking his Cadillac outside an all night diner, Dennis climbed out of the car and entered the near deserted establishment.  Ordering a black coffee, he slid into a window booth and stared out into the bright lights of the city.  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a battered packet of Marlboros and tapping out a cigarette, he placed it between his lips.  Taking his Zippo lighter from his pocket, he flicked it open and placing the flame against the tip of the cigarette, he inhaled deeply.  Flipping the lighter closed, he put it back in the pocket of his leather jacket as he sucked in another lungful of smoke.  He had started smoking again several weeks after his fight with Tom, having given up nearly three years before.  He knew it was a stupid thing to do but he found it soothed his nerves, especially during the tedious hours he slowly patrolled the streets searching for Tom.

Flicking ash from the tip of his smoke, he smiled at the waitress as she placed his coffee on the table.  Returning his attention to the streets outside, he took another drag of his cigarette and stared at a group of twenty-somethings walking past.  The young men and women were laughing and joking good-naturedly and were obviously having a good time.  Dennis’ eyes misted over and he thought how unfair it was that Tom was not living a carefree life.  Only a few years ago, Hanson had the world at his feet.  He was young, beautiful and working in a job that he loved.  He had good friends and a mother who adored him.  Then, in a blink of an eye, all that had been taken away from him and he was now alone and tormented by the horrors that had been inflicted upon him.  But Dennis had to believe that Tom would find happiness again. He could not accept that maybe Hanson was destined to die a tortured soul, just another statistic of the harsh streets of L.A.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, he stubbed out his cigarette.  Slowly sipping at his coffee, he realized how tired he was.  He spent his days working and his nights driving through the city streets.  Catching his reflection in the window, he was shocked by his appearance.  Raking a hand through his tousled hair, he sighed deeply.  He had been surviving on only a few hours sleep a night and cigarettes and coffee had become his staple diet.  Rubbing a hand over his stubbled chin, he recognized that he needed to start taking better care of himself or he would be in no fit state to help Tom when he finally found him.  Smiling into his coffee, he chuckled silently.  He was an eternal optimist.  He had to believe that one day he would receive the call he was waiting for, otherwise the last three years had all been for nothing and Dennis could not come to terms with that.

Leaving a tip on the table for the waitress, he slid out of the booth and walked to his car.  Climbing behind the wheel, he drove back to his apartment and fell into bed, not bothering to undress.  Within minutes, he had fallen into an exhausted sleep, as images of Tom’s tortured face haunted his dreams.

** 

Waking late in the morning, Dennis was in no rush to get to work.  He had finished a case the day before and he had nothing pending.  He planned to spend the day catching up on paperwork.  Since he began searching for Tom, he had not spent much time on the mundane things that needed doing around the office.  Now that he had some free time, he felt obligated to spend at least one day filing the mountains of paperwork that littered his office.  But he was in no great hurry.  Pulling on a t-shirt and shorts, he laced up his sneakers and left the apartment.  He ran through the busy streets to a large park that had several jogging trails winding through the greenery.  It had been months since he had exercised and as the light breeze blew against his face, he felt his mind clear.  Smoking had definitely made a difference to his fitness and an hour later, he puffed his way back to his apartment.  Once inside, he kicked off his shoes and walked into the bathroom.  Stripping off his sweaty clothes, he tossed them into the hamper and turning on the shower, he stepped under the hot water.  Bowing his head, the therapeutic water slowly eased is tense muscles.  Lathering up his body, he began to make a mental checklist of the places he would visit after sunset, places that were known hangouts for people living on the streets.  He briefly wondered if today would be the day that he finally found Tom but he quickly pushed the thought aside.  It was not a good idea to let his emotions cloud his thinking.  He needed to keep a level head and continue his methodical check of the city streets.

Stepping out of the shower, he quickly toweled himself dry and dressed in his trademark black t-shirt and jeans.  Walking into the kitchen, he poured a cup of strong black coffee and sat down at the table.  Picking up the newspaper that he had purchased on the way home from his run, he scanned the front page and an article immediately jumped out at him.  Folding the paper in half, he started to read:

__**HEROIN OVERDOSES RISE BY 25%**  
The number of heroin overdoses reported throughout the inner  
city limits have risen by a massive 25%, according to a source   
within the Los Angeles Police Department.  It is believed that   
a bad batch of heroin is circulating the streets and it is estimated  
that as many as fifteen people per day (the majority homeless),  
have been taken to various emergency departments around  
the city.  Mayor Anderson made a statement late last night,   
advising that the city would be cracking down on the drug dealers  
 that littered the street corners throughout the city.  The LAPD   
has yet to make a formal statement but it is believed… 

Booker stopped reading and laid down the paper.  Closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths before continuing with the article.  When he had finished, he pushed the paper to one side as his mind turned to Tom.  Even though Hanson had started using cocaine just days before their argument, he could not imagine that Tom would ever consider using heroin, no matter how desperate his situation.  It was a sad story and he felt for the people involved but he was also relieved that Hanson was not one of the statistics.  

Standing up, he drained his coffee and picking up his jacket and car keys, he exited his apartment.  He drove the short distance to his office and climbed the stairs to the third floor.  Unlocking his office door, he sighed heavily when he took in the piles of paperwork littering the small room.  Shrugging out of his leather jacket, he tossed it onto a chair and walked to his desk.  Pressing the play button on his answering machine, he set about organizing a pile of papers.  The first two messages were telemarketers and he barely registered the communications.  When the third message began, he tuned out, thinking it was just another sales pitch.  But when he heard Tom’s name he let out a yell and running over to his desk, he slammed his finger on the replay button.  A woman’s pleasant voice sounded out through the speakers.  _“Hi, my name is Nurse Elaine Hart from All Saints Hospital.  I am trying to contact a Mr. Dennis Booker concerning a patient who is currently receiving care at our hospital.  His name is Thomas Hanson.  If you know Tom, could you please call me on 555-8432 as soon as possible.  Thanks.”_

Dennis choked back a sob as he stared at the answering machine.  Today really _was_ the day.  After four months of searching, he had finally found Tom.  



	18. What Do You Want From Me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Standing up, he drained his coffee and picking up his jacket and car keys, he exited his apartment.  He drove the short distance to his office and climbed the stairs to the third floor.  Unlocking his office door, he sighed heavily when he took in the piles of paperwork littering the small room.  Shrugging out of his leather jacket, he tossed it onto a chair and walked to his desk.  Pressing the play button on his answering machine, he set about organizing a pile of papers.  The first two messages were telemarketers and he barely registered the communications.  When the third message began, he tuned out, thinking it was just another sales pitch.  But when he heard Tom’s name he let out a yell and running over to his desk, he slammed his finger on the replay button.  A woman’s pleasant voice sounded out through the speakers.  “Hi, my name is Nurse Elaine Davis from All Saints Hospital.  I am trying to contact a Mr.Dennis Booker concerning a patient who is currently receiving care at our hospital.  His name is Thomas Hanson.  If you know Tom, could you please call me on 555-8432 as soon as possible.  Thanks.”_
> 
> _Dennis choked back a sob as he stared_ _at the answering machine.  Today really was the day.  After four months of searching, he had finally found Tom._

**What Do You Want From Me?**  

The drive to the hospital was a slow and frustrating experience for Booker.  Endless road works caused unforeseen time delays and as he waited for a large truck to back out into the traffic from a narrow laneway, he felt like screaming.  The constant _beep beep beep_ of the reversing alarm penetrated his mind and slamming his hand down onto the car horn, he stuck his head out of the open window.  “Oh for _FUCK’S SAKE!”_ he cursed loudly.  “Get a fucking move on!”

By the time he pulled into the underground car park, Dennis felt like a nervous wreck.  Jumping from his car, he sprinted into the hospital, his head snapping left to right as he looked for the reception area.  Turning left, he walked quickly up to the desk and queued behind an elderly couple who were speaking to the receptionist.  Tapping his foot impatiently, he checked his watch.  Nearly two hours had passed since he had spoken to Nurse Davis.  Whilst pleasant, she was unwilling to disclose Tom’s medical details.  All she would say was that Tom had arrived at the hospital in an ambulance four days ago.  Once stabilized, he had started asking for Dennis.  It took a further day of coaxing for Tom to reveal a surname.  Armed with only a name, Nurse Davis had spent her lunch hour ringing all the D. Bookers in the phone book, leaving messages on over thirty machines before finally locating Dennis.  She suggested that he get to the hospital as soon as he could and that he would learn more once he had spoken to Tom.

The elderly couple finally moved away and Dennis stepped forward, nervously rubbing at his top lip.  “Um, I’m here to see Tom… I mean Thomas Hanson.”

The young woman typed the name into her computer.  After several moments she gave Booker the information.  “Third floor, room twelve.  But, there’s a notation here that you need to check in at the nurses’ station first.”

Dennis frowned.  “Does it say why?” he asked uneasily.

Smiling, the woman shook her head.  “No, but it’s a common procedure, I wouldn’t worry too much.  Just speak to one of the nurses and they’ll tell you what to do.”

Feeling a sense of relief, Dennis thanked the receptionist and walked over to the lift.  He stepped into the waiting elevator and pressed the button for the third floor.  Although somewhat apprehensive about seeing Tom, he felt happier than he had in days.  Now that he had found Hanson, he could set about restoring their shattered friendship.   There were so many things he wanted to say to Tom, the first being an apology.  He wanted to make him understand how sorry he was for sending him away and that he now knew that he had not done the right thing.  He had abandoned Tom when he needed him most and he wanted Hanson to understand that no matter what, he would never do that again.

The elevator door pinged open and he stepped out into a wide corridor smelling faintly of disinfectant.  Turning his head, he saw the nurses’ station half way down and he hurried towards it.  He waited several minutes before a young dark-haired nurse addressed him.  “Can I help you?”

“I was told to report here before my visit,” Dennis replied in a rush, his nerves at seeing Tom suddenly manifesting.  Taking a deep breath, he attempted to speak more calmly.  “I'm sorry.  I’m here to see Tom Hanson.  Nurse Davis phoned me.”

The woman’s eyes clouded over for a second but she quickly regained her composure.  “Ah yes, Tom.  If you’d like to take a seat I’ll see if I can find someone to speak with you.”

Dennis chewed at his lower lip.  “Can’t I see him?” he asked anxiously.  “I really need to see if he’s okay.”

Shaking her head, the nurse walked out from behind the counter.  Taking Booker’s arm, she gently steered him into a waiting room.  “I’m afraid not.  But if you stay here, someone will be with you shortly.”  After suggesting he have a cup of coffee whilst he waited, she quickly left the room.

Unable to keep still, Booker began to pace back and forth across the worn linoleum.  Half an hour passed and his nerves were jangling.  Well aware that he did not need any more caffeine, he purchased a bottle of water from the vending machine.  He sipped on the cool liquid as he stared out into the busy corridor.  He mentally counted the room numbers and his eyes focused on room twelve.  Several minutes passed and just as he started to turn away, a tall, gray-haired man wearing an expensive suit entered Tom’s room and closed the door behind him.  Screwing the cap back on the water bottle, Dennis threw it into the small trashcan in the waiting room and continued his observation of Tom’s closed door.  Twenty minutes passed before the door reopened and the man exited the room carrying a clipboard.  He turned and started to walk towards Dennis.  Nervously raking a hand through his hair, Booker stepped out into the corridor.  The man stopped and after giving Dennis the once over, he addressed him a in pleasant voice.  “Mr. Booker?”

Dennis nodded and extended his hand.  The man shook it and introduced himself.  “Doctor Camden, I’m Tom’s physician.”  Motioning towards the waiting room, he smiled warmly.  “Why don’t we take a seat.”

“When can I see him?” Dennis blurted out, unable to hold onto his patience any longer.  He felt as though he would explode if he did not see for himself that Tom was okay.

“Soon,” Doctor Camden replied.   Sitting down, he waited for Dennis to join him before speaking again.  “I’ve spoken to Tom and he has given his permission for you to have access to his medical information.  Before you go in and see him, I need a guarantee from you that you are prepared to commit to helping him during the next few months.  If you are not, then I suggest that you leave now.  Tom’s emotional state is very fragile and he needs people around him he can rely on.  Do you understand?”

Tears filled Dennis eyes.  “Oh God, of course I will,” he whispered, wiping away his tears with his thumb.  “I’ll do anything for him, I just want him to be happy and healthy.”

Eugene Camden smiled.  “Very good.  Now, we need to discuss Tom’s condition, both physical and mental.  He was brought in suffering from a drug overdose. “

Dennis’ eyes widened in shock.  “A drug overdose?  Jesus Christ, what did he O.D. on?”

“Cocaine and heroin,” Camden replied softly.  “He was found unconscious in a disused building with the needle still in his arm.  He’d been beaten and he was naked when found.  There were signs that he had engaged in sexual activity with several different men.  He is adamant that he wasn’t raped, which has led me to the conclusion that he was prostituting himself.  I have ordered all the necessary blood screens for STDs, Hepatitis and HIV but our immediate concern is the drug withdrawal.  The detoxification process is going to be long and grueling.  He is going to have to deal with both the physical dependency and the psychological addiction.  He is already suffering from stomach pains, nausea and excessive sweating.  Depression, anxiety and insomnia are other likely symptoms.  His cravings will cause mood swings and he may become aggressive or even suicidal.  This is not going to be an easy time for Tom and he is going to need a lot of support.  Are you still prepared to help him through this?”

A mirage of images flashed through Booker’s mind.  _Tom lying naked and unconscious with a needle in his arm… Tom being fucked by some middle-aged pervert… Tom receiving a vicious beating…_

Dennis felt acid bile rising in his throat and he quickly swallowed it back down.  In the space of four months, Tom had become a drug-addicted prostitute.  The severity of the words resonated in his mind and a final image floated into his brain.  It was of Tom sitting at his desk in The Chapel, smiling broadly at something Penhall had said.  It was the Tom Hanson that Dennis had initial fallen in love with and the man he wanted Tom to become again.

Choking back a sob, he quickly covered his mouth to prevent himself from crying out.  He needed to pull himself together.  Tom needed him and this time, he would not fail him.  Rubbing his hands over his face, he managed to calm himself enough to speak.  “What do you need me to do?” he asked quietly.

Doctor Camden stood up.  “First things first.  How about we go and see Tom.”

Standing up, Dennis took a deep breath.  The moment had finally arrived but now that it had, he was terrified about what was to follow.

**

Booker entered the small, private hospital room behind Doctor Camden.  A white curtain had been pulled around the bed, concealing Tom from view and giving him some much needed privacy.  Dennis stood back as the doctor pulled back the curtain and disappeared between its folds.  He could hear Camden speaking in a low, calm voice but he struggled to make out the words.  Moments later, the doctor reappeared and laid a reassuring hand on Booker’s arm.  “He’d really like to see you.  Try to remain calm, he’s very emotional and is feeling unwell, as is to be expected during withdrawal.  I’ll give you both some time together and then we can sit down and discuss Tom’s treatment.”

Barely managing a nod of reply, Dennis watched silently as Camden left the room.  He stood for a moment, chewing on his thumb as he gathered up the courage to pull back the curtain.  Finally, the desire to see Tom became too strong and stepping forward, he opened the screen and walked into the cubicle.

Tom lay on a bed, covered by a thin, white sheet.  Purple bruises covered his face and one eye was swollen shut.  His hair hung in sweaty strands around his damaged face and his lower lip was split and puffy.  An IV pumped fluids into an arm covered in track marks and several sticky patches on Tom’s chest connected him to a cardiac monitor, which beeped rhythmically as it recorded his heart rate.  Attached to his finger was a pulse oximeter and a blood pressure cuff wrapped around his upper arm suddenly came to life, slowly inflating before deflating noisily and recording a reading of 90/60.

A single tear trickled down Tom’s cheek when he saw Dennis’ shocked face.  “You came,” he murmured through his cracked, swollen lips.

Moving forward, Booker grasped hold of Tom’s hand and squeezed it tightly.  “Oh baby,” he whispered, brushing Tom’s damp hair from his eyes.  “I’ve missed you so much.”

If Tom was surprised at Dennis calling him _baby_ , his face did not show it.  He tried to smile but instead, he began to weep.  “I guess I really fucked up this time, huh?” he sobbed.

Sitting down on the plastic chair bedside Tom’s bed, Dennis gently stroked his hair.  “Shh,” he soothed softly.  “All that matters is that you’re safe now.  I’m here for you Tommy, whatever you need.  We’ll get through this together.”

Tom’s weary eyes fluttered closed as Booker’s gentle caress lulled him to sleep.  For the first time in months, he felt loved and protected and his pain was momentarily forgotten.  As he slowly drifted into unconsciousness, he did not feel Dennis’ lips lightly brush against his hair, nor did hear the whispered words, “I love you Tommy.”


	19. The Hard Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Tom lay on a bed, covered by a thin, white sheet.  Purple bruises covered his face and one eye was swollen shut.  His hair hung in sweaty strands around his damaged face and his lower lip was split and puffy.  An IV pumped fluids into an arm covered in track marks and several sticky patches on Tom’s chest connected him to a cardiac monitor, which beeped rhythmically as it recorded his heart rate.  Attached to his finger was a pulse oximeter and a blood pressure cuff wrapped around his upper arm suddenly came to life, slowly inflating before deflating noisily and recording a reading of 90/60._
> 
> _A single tear trickled down Tom’s cheek when he saw Dennis’ shocked face.  “You came,” he murmured through his cracked, swollen lips._
> 
> _Moving forward, Booker grasped hold of Tom’s hand and squeezed it tightly.  “Oh baby,” he whispered, brushing Tom’s damp hair from his eyes.  “I’ve missed you so much.”_
> 
> _If Tom was surprised at Dennis calling him baby, his face did not show it.  He tried to smile but instead, he began to weep.  “I guess I really fucked up this time, huh?” he sobbed._
> 
> _Sitting down on the plastic chair bedside Tom’s bed, Dennis gently stroked his hair.  “Shh,” he soothed softly.  “All that matters is that you’re safe now.  I’m here for you Tommy, whatever you need.  We’ll get through this together.”_
> 
> _Tom’s weary eyes fluttered closed as Booker’s gentle caress lulled him to sleep.  For the first time in months, he felt loved and protected and his pain was momentarily forgotten.  As he slowly drifted into unconsciousness, he did not feel Dennis’ lips lightly brush against his hair, nor did hear the whispered words, “I love you Tommy.”_

**The Hard Way**  

Hours passed and Booker remained by Tom’s side, holding his hand and gently stroking his dirty hair.  Staring down into Tom’s ravaged face, Booker tried hard not to think about what his friend would have endured whilst living on the streets.  He did not want to think about how many men had pounded their cocks deep into Tom’s young, taut body.  Nor did he want to think about what permanent effects the drug use might have had on Hanson’s health.  Although he did not want to reflect on the details, he knew in his heart that whatever the outcome, he would help Tom through it.  This time, his promise would not be broken.

Doctor Camden came back during the afternoon to speak to them both, but he was unwilling to wake Tom, so he scheduled a meeting for later in the day.  Booker was relieved, as he was not looking forward to the conversation.  He knew that the doctor would recommend that Tom went into a drug rehabilitation facility and he knew what Tom’s reaction would be.  Having spent two years living under the oppression of the soldiers and a further six months in a psychiatric center, it was little wonder that Tom would become upset at the thought of more time spent under the control of others.  Dennis knew that Hanson would refuse to go to rehab, which left only one option; he would offer to be the one to help Tom through his sickness.  He doubted Camden would agree to the idea but he would push his case as rationally as he knew how.  For Tom’s sake, he had no choice but to try.

A soft moan brought Dennis back to the present and looking down, he saw Tom’s one good eye flutter open.  Booker started to smile but his face froze when he realized something was wrong.  Rolling onto his side, Tom let out a loud gasp as he wrapped his arms around his stomach and pulled his legs up to his chest.  “Oh God!” he groaned, his bruised face screwing up with pain.  “Oh God help me!”

Before Dennis could react, Tom began to vomit.  The foul, runny liquid stained the sheets and slowly dripped onto Booker’s lap.  Unable to sit up because of the agonizing pain, Tom started to choke as he became increasingly distressed.  Dennis’ chair crashed to the floor as he jumped to his feet and pulled Hanson into a sitting position.  Tom sat forward with his knees bent and he continued to vomit violently onto the bed.  Booker searched frantically for the Nurse Call Button, eventually finding it tucked down the side of the mattress.  Pressing the alarm, he turned his attention back to Tom.  Sitting on the bed, he gently rubbed Tom’s back as he continued to heave.  Eventually, there was nothing left in Tom’s stomach to throw up and he sat hunched over, groaning softly, his arms wrapped around his cramping abdomen.  

A male nurse arrived and called for assistance.  Together, the two men unplugged Tom from the various pieces of medical equipment and helped him from the bed.  They dressed him in a clean gown and sat him down in a reclining chair next to the window.  As the nurses began the laborious task of stripping and remaking the bed, a cleaner came in and mopped the stinking mess from the floor.  Dennis squatted down next to Tom and placed an arm around his trembling shoulders.  “It’s okay Tommy, you’ve got withdrawal sickness.  It’s not your fault.”

Hanson’s gaze traveled down to Booker’s stained clothing.  “I’m s-sorry D-Dennis,” he sobbed with embarrassment.  “I’m r-really s-sorry.”

Dennis caressed Tom’s head.  “I don’t want you to apologize Tom, not anymore.  I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.  I’ve let you down so much.  I should have been a better friend and I’m sorry.”

Wiping his runny nose with his arm, Tom gazed deep into Dennis’ eyes.  “If it wasn’t for you, I’d be dead,” he whispered, his lower lip quivering with emotion.  “You saved my life and I never thanked you.”  Covering his damaged face in his hands, he began to sob uncontrollably.  “Why didn’t I thank you?” he cried.  

Dennis held him close, his own tears soaking into Tom’s straggly hair.  Remembering Doctor Camden’s words to remain calm, he quickly pulled himself together.  Wiping away his tears, he gently moved Tom’s hands from his face and tilting up his chin, he gave his friend a smile.  “C’mon, no more crying.  Let’s get you back to bed.”

With Dennis’ help, Tom stood up on shaky legs.  Booker kept his arm around Tom’s waist as he walked him to the clean bed and helped him to lie down.  Looking down at his vomit stained clothing, he gently brushed the hair from Tom’s face.  “I’m going home to change.  You get some rest and I’ll be back before you know it.”

Tom stared back with a worried expression.  “Promise?”

A lump formed in Booker’s throat.  He did not blame Tom for not believing him.  Taking hold of Hanson’s hand, he squeezed it tightly.  “Trust me Tommy, I’ll never lie to you again.”

Satisfied with Dennis’ answer, Tom lay back against the pillow and closed his eyes.  Standing up, Dennis turned to go but he slowly spun back around and moving forward, he bent over and placed his lips against Tom’s forehead.  A smile twitched on Tom’s lips and Booker’s heart began to beat harder.  Straightening back up, he gazed down at Tom’s peaceful expression before turning and walking away.

**

Freshly showered and wearing clean clothes, Booker arrived back at the hospital in record time.  When he entered the room, he saw that Tom was again reconnected to the various machines monitoring his wellbeing.  Hearing the sound of footsteps, Hanson turned his head and he managed a weak smile.  “You smell better,” he joked but he suddenly looked uncomfortable as he ran a shaky hand through his sweaty hair.  “But I guess I don’t.  I must look pretty disgusting.”  
   
Dennis was about to shake his head but he paused for a moment.  He had made a promise never to lie to Tom again and if he was to be perfectly honest, Hanson looked ghastly.  Deciding to take a subtle approach so as not to upset Tom any further, he grinned.  “Maybe a shower wouldn’t go astray.  Let me see if I can organize something.”

The nurses were too busy to assist Tom but after a consultation with Doctor Camden, it was decided that as long as Hanson agreed, Dennis could help him.  Armed with toiletries and a towel, Dennis reentered Tom’s room.  Pulling back the curtain, he laid the various items on the table.  Perching on the edge of the bed, he picked up Tom’s hand.  “There’s no-one free but if you’re okay with it, they said I could help you shower.”

He waited silently to see what Tom’s reaction would be and he was somewhat surprised by his answer.  “You’ve seen it all before… and more.  I guess I’ve got nothing else to be embarrassed about.”

Dennis gazed deep into Tom’s blackened eyes.  “Whatever you’ve done and whatever I’ve seen… it doesn’t change the way I feel about you Tommy.”

Tom chewed at his damaged lip.  “How do you feel about me?” he asked quietly.

Choosing his words carefully, Dennis gave a tender smile.  “I care about you Tom… I care about you a lot.”  He was shocked to see tears trickle from Hanson’s eyes.  Leaning over, he pulled his friend into his arms.  “Oh Tommy, don’t cry.  Please don’t cry.”

“H-how can you c-care about m-me?” Tom sobbed against Booker’s chest.  “I’m n-nothing but a d-drug addicted whore!”

Gently pushing Hanson away, Dennis placed his hands on the sobbing man’s shoulders.  “No you’re not!” he said firmly.  “You’re Tom Hanson and I don’t want you to ever forget that.”

Bowing his head so he did not have to meet Booker gaze, Tom spoke in a voice barely above a whisper.  “I let them do things to me Dennis… terrible things.  Who’s going to love me now?  I’m repulsive, I’m…”  His voice trailed off and he sniffed loudly as he wiped away his tears.

Placing a hand against Tom’s cheek, Booker’s eyes softened.  “You’ll get well and then someday, you’ll meet someone and all of this will be a distant memory.”

Tom lifted his head and peered out from behind his long bangs.  “Maybe I’ve already met him.”

Dennis breath caught in his throat and he gave Tom a bewildered look.  As he started to speak, a nurse came in and began to disconnect Hanson from everything except his IV, which was attached to a portable frame.  Smiling, she introduced herself.  “Hi, I’m Chloe and I’ll be your nurse this evening.  They tell me you’d like to take a shower.”

“Yeah,” Tom replied, refusing to meet Booker’s expectant gaze.

“Okay then,” Emily chirped brightly.  “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

As the young woman helped Tom into the adjoining bathroom, Dennis let out a frustrated sigh.  For the briefest of moments he had thought that Tom was about to admit that he had feelings for him too.  As the bathroom door closed, he stood up and walked out of the room in search of some coffee.  He knew he needed to be careful.  He had made so many mistakes before, with disastrous consequences and he needed to push his feelings for Tom to one side and concentrate on helping him to get better.  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out several coins and inserted them into the hot drink machine.  After filling his cup with coffee, he sat in the waiting room and sipped at the steaming brew.  The day had been a roller coaster ride of emotion and he felt both physically and mentally exhausted.  Closing his eyes, he pictured Tom’s beautiful face smiling happily and his fatigue magically disappeared.  He did not care how difficult it was or how long it took, he was determined to see that smile again.

**

Returning to the room thirty minutes later, he found Tom’s bed still empty.  Sitting down, he flicked on the small overhead television and sat back to watch the evening news.  His stomach growled and he realized he had not eaten anything all day.  Remembering that there was a canteen on the ground floor, he left the room and wandered down to the lobby where he purchased a sandwich and a can of Coke.   He sat down at a table and watched the various people entering and leaving the hospital whilst he slowly chewed his food.  On any given day, thousands of people visited sick friends and relatives in hospitals around the United States.  Dennis wondered how many of them had suffered as much as Tom.  The last three years of Hanson’s life had been a living nightmare and he doubted many people could have survived what he had been through.  It just proved what Dennis knew all along.  Tom was a remarkably strong and resilient human being.  Yes, he had slipped into a black hole of drugs and prostitution but Booker had complete faith that Hanson would emerge the other side a better man.

Arriving back at the room he found Tom back in his bed watching TV.  As he was about to speak, the dinner lady arrived and placed a tray on the table.  Booker lifted the lid off the plate.  “Hungry?” he asked.

Tom shook his head.  “I feel sick,” he muttered through his swollen lips.  “Take it away.”

Dennis picked up the tray and walked out to the nurses’ station.  After explaining that the smell of the food was making Tom feel nauseous, Nurse Chloe took the offending tray away.  When Booker returned, he found Doctor Camden examining Tom.  Taking his place on the plastic seat, he watched as the doctor listened to Hanson’s chest and checked the chart at the end of the bed.  When he had finished, Camden pulled up a chair and smiled.  “I’d like to speak to you both about treatment programs.  I think it’s important that Tom is moved to a treatment facility as soon as he is stable”

Tom struggled to a sitting position and all the color drained from his face as his body started to tremble.  “No,” he whispered.  “I don’t want to.”  Turning his gaze to Dennis, he grasped hold of his arm and gave him a beseeching look.  “Please don’t make me go Dennis.  Please… I can’t… not again… oh God… I can’t… I can’t… I ca…” Leaning forward, he began to hyperventilate.  Gasping for air, his eyes filled with panic and his fingers grasped at the bed sheet.

Standing up, the doctor placed a comforting hand on Tom’s back.  “Breathe Tom.  In through the nose and out through the mouth, nice and slow,” he instructed calmly. 

When the rhythm of his breathing finally returned to normal, Tom lay back down and closed his eyes.  Dennis reached out and stroked his hair.  “It’s okay baby,” he soothed softly.  “You’re not going anywhere.”

Doctor Camden looked surprised at Booker’s statement.  “Mr. Booker, it is in Tom’s best interest that he receives professional treatment.  Drug addiction is a—”

“It’s not about the treatment,” Dennis interrupted quietly, his fingers gently playing with Tom’s hair.  “It’s about the care.  I can give Tom what he needs.”

Camden stood watching the display of affection.  After several minutes, he let out an audible sigh.  “It’s against my better judgment but if you promise to follow my instructions, I’ll release Tom into your charge.”

Opening his undamaged eye, Hanson attempted to climb out of bed.  “Take me home,” he muttered, perspiration glistening on his battered face.  “Please Dennis, take me home.”

Doctor Camden placed a restraining hand on Tom’s arm.  “Sorry Tom,” he said in a firm voice as he gently helped Hanson back onto the bed.  “But you’re going to need to stay in hospital for a while yet.”

Tilting Tom’s face towards him, Dennis gave his friend an encouraging smile.  “Do what the doctor says,” he said in a quiet voice.  “And when he says it’s okay, I’ll take you home.”

Relaxing against the pillow, Tom gave Dennis a weak smile.  “Promise?”

Dennis cupped Tom’s face in the palm of his hand.  “I promise,” he murmured.  “No more lies, remember?”

“Thank you,” Tom whispered before closing his eyes and shutting out the world.  He believed Dennis and he knew he was lucky to have such a devoted friend.  But he was terrified of what lay ahead and he wondered if he would ever feel normal again.  



	20. Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Opening his undamaged eye, Hanson attempted to climb out of bed.  “Take me home,” he muttered, perspiration glistening on his battered face.  “Please Dennis, take me home.”_
> 
> _Doctor Camden placed a restraining hand on Tom’s arm.  “Sorry Tom,” he said in a firm voice as he gently helped Hanson back onto the bed.  “But you’re going to need to stay in hospital for a while yet.”_
> 
> _Tilting Tom’s face towards him, Dennis gave his friend an encouraging smile.  “Do what the doctor says,” he said in a quiet voice.  “And when he says it’s okay, I’ll take you home.”_
> 
> _Relaxing against the pillow, Tom gave Dennis a weak smile.  “Promise?”_
> 
> _Dennis cupped Tom’s face in the palm of his hand.  “I promise,” he murmured.  “No more lies, remember?”_
> 
> _“Thank you,” Tom whispered before closing his eyes and shutting out the world.  He believed Dennis and he knew he was lucky to have such a devoted friend.  But he was terrified of what lay ahead and he wondered if he would ever feel normal again._

**Time**  

Sitting in the hospital room, Booker flicked through a motorcycle magazine as he waited for Tom to wake up.  Hanson had only been asleep for twenty minutes and Dennis hoped that this time, his slumber would be restful.  Three days had passed since their reunion and Booker was beginning to see small signs in Tom’s physical recovery.   Purplish-blue bruises still marred his beautiful face but the swelling around his left eye had settled and he was now able to open his eyelid.  Although the eye remained bloodshot, he had not suffered any permanent damage to his sight, which was a huge relief for them both.

However, although Tom was slowly healing on the outside, he still suffered devastating symptoms within his ravaged body from the effects of his withdrawal.  Constant nosebleeds had once again started to plague him and even though the nausea had eased, he continued to endure crippling stomach cramps, which doubled him over with pain.  His appetite was poor and he was still underweight.   During his first few days in hospital, he had drifted in and out of sleep, barely able to stay awake longer than a few hours.  Now he suffered from insomnia and when his tired mind eventually shut down for a few minutes, he suffered vivid nightmares that had him screaming in terror.  For Dennis, it brought back memories of their time in El Salvador and he wondered if Tom would ever find peace from the horrors that haunted him or if he was destined to endure the frightening images for the rest of his life.

Tom moaned in his sleep and his head began to move from side to side.  A trickle of blood oozed from his nostril, signaling the start of another nosebleed.  Before the nightmare could take hold, Dennis leaned over and caressed Tom’s hair.  “Wake up Tommy,” he whispered in Hanson’s ear.  “C’mon baby, come back to me.”

Tom’s body slowly relaxed and he opened his eyes to see Dennis’ handsome face gazing down at him.  Rubbing at his face, his hand came away bloody and he sighed when he realized his nose was bleeding.  Struggling to a sitting position, he dropped his head forward and pinched his nostrils closed.  Booker continued his soothing ministrations and Tom closed his eyes and concentrated on the pleasurable sensation of gentle fingers lightly playing with his hair.  It took nearly ten minutes for the flow to stop and lifting his head, Tom gave Booker a weary look.  “I’m so fucking sick of this,” he muttered.

Standing up, Dennis went to the small hand basin and dampened a washcloth.  Sitting back down, he carefully wiped the remnants of blood from Tom’s face and hands.  “I know you are,” he replied softly.  “But every day it gets a little better.”

Sighing heavily, Tom gazed deep into Dennis’ dark eyes.  “How do you keep doing this?” he asked quietly.

Booker gave him a quizzical look.  “Doing what?”

“This,” Tom replied, sweeping his arm in front of him.  “Coming here, day after day, looking after me, wiping up my blood, helping me to the toilet.  Jesus Dennis, you’re twenty-four years old, you should be out having fun, not caring for a fucking junkie.”

“You’re not a junkie to me,” Dennis replied softly.  “You’re just Tom.”

Lying back on his pillow, Hanson gave a terse smile.  “You can’t sugar coat it Dennis, I am what I am and if I want to get better, I have to own up to what I’ve done.”

“Yes you do,” Dennis murmured.  “But it doesn’t define you Tommy.  For twenty-one years you lived a completely different life.”

Tears filled Hanson’s eyes.  “Maybe _that_ life was the lie Dennis.  Maybe I really am just a junkie whore.”

Dennis stood up and climbing onto the narrow bed, he lay down next to Tom and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close.  “Shh,” he soothed, as Tom’s body trembled in his arms.  “You’re just tired and emotional.  We both know what kind of man you are.”

Resting his head on Dennis’ chest, Tom relaxed against his friend’s muscular body.  “I just want to go home,” he muttered softly.

Booker pressed his lips against Tom’s hair.  “Soon baby,” he murmured.  “Soon.”

**

Several days later, Dennis walked into Tom’s room and was surprised to find it empty.  Walking back out to the nurses’ station, he spoke to one of Hanson’s nurses.  “Hey Jane, where’s Tommy?” he asked, trying desperately to keep the concern out of his voice.

Jane gave him a bright smile.  “Relax Dennis, he’s with Doctor Peterson.  He’s having his first therapy session today.”

Dennis frowned.  “Therapy?  He didn’t say anything to me about it.”  He managed to keep the hurt out of his voice but deep down, he felt betrayed that Hanson had not told him.

“He didn’t know himself until a few minutes ago,” Jane replied, motioning for Dennis to follow her down the corridor so they could keep talking.  Doctor Camden won’t release him until he’s spoken to the psychologist.  Once he goes home, he’ll have weekly follow up visits.”

Booker felt his shoulders relax; Hanson had not kept any secrets from him.  It was a relief to know that they were both staying honest with each other.  Dennis knew that if their friendship was to continue to flourish, they needed to trust each other implicitly.

When Jane hurried off to answer a patient’s buzzer, Dennis wandered back up the corridor and into Tom’s room.  Lying on the freshly made bed, he turned on the television and flicked through the channels until he found a baseball game.  Settling back, he instantly became engrossed in the Dodgers game and forty-five minutes later, he did not hear Tom enter the room.  It was only when Hanson was standing next to the bed, that he was jolted back to reality.  Switching off the TV, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.  “Hey Tommy.  How was your session with the psychologist?”

“Who told you?” Tom asked moodily.  He gave Dennis a cold stare.  “Do you mind?” he asked crossly, indicating for Booker to move.  “I want to lie down.”

“Sorry,” Dennis replied softly. He stood up and watched as Tom pulled back the covers and climbed into bed. When Hanson closed his eyes, Dennis sat back down on the edge of the bed.  “What’s wrong Tommy?” he asked in a gentle tone.

“Nothing,” Tom answered in a sulky voice, rolling onto his side so his back was facing Booker.

“Yes there is,” Dennis pushed.  “Tell me.”

Rolling onto his back, Tom sighed heavily.  “This doctor wants to know _everything_.  I don’t want to tell him about El Salvador or about how many men have…” his voice trailed off and he started chewing on his bottom lip.  “I don’t _want_ to remember Dennis,” he whispered.  “I don’t want to be _Hermoso Puto_ anymore.”

“Hermoso Puto?” Dennis asked in bewilderment.  “Tommy, I don’t know what that—”

Tom lowered his gaze.  “Beautiful whore,” he whispered, his fingers frantically picking at the blanket on his bed.  “That’s what they called me on the streets.  They called me that because I always spoke Spanish when… well… you know.”

Dennis felt his blood pressure rise and he struggled to contain his anger as he imagined the mocking tone the men would have used when calling Tom that name.  Whenever he allowed himself to think about the horrors Tom had experienced, Dennis felt his temper rising.  He hated the images that plagued his mind in the dead of night, the images of Tom on his hands knees, whilst a faceless man slammed his cock in and out of his battered body.  He hated the thought that Tom might have gained his release by continuing to play the dangerous game of auto-erotic asphyxiation that he had learned from the soldiers in El Salvador.  But most of all, he hated the physical and emotional pain that tore at Tom’s soul every single day and which shone dully out of his dark, tormented eyes.  He wished he knew how to ease Tom’s suffering and restore his physical and emotional wellbeing.  

Lying down next to Tom, Booker mirrored his position by staring at the ceiling.  Several minutes passed before Dennis finally broke the silence.  “I know you don’t want to remember it,” he said calmly.  “But if talking about what happened helps with your recovery, then isn’t it worth it?”

Tom thought about it for a moment.  “Maybe,” he replied.  “But I can’t help thinking that it’s all a waste of time.  I'm the only one who can change my life.”

Turning his head, Booker smiled at Tom.  “Never be afraid to ask for help Tommy, we can’t do everything on our own.”

Hanson turned over, his gaze meeting Dennis’ and their eyes locked.  Their lips were just inches apart and Booker could feel Tom’s breath against his skin.  His own breathing increased and he felt his cock twitch.  But as quickly as the moment happened, it passed and Tom rolled back over, instantly breaking the spell.  

Dennis closed his eyes for a moment and imagined the kiss that they had so nearly shared.  He wondered if he should back off and not show Tom so much affection.  He did not want to jeopardize Tom’s recovery by becoming romantically involved, even though it was what he wanted.   Now more than ever, he needed to be careful.  Tom was close to being released into his care and once again, he did not want to take advantages of his emotionally fragile state.  If he did, he could send Tom spiraling out of control again and there may not be anymore second chances.

**

Dennis arrived early the next morning to find Tom’s mood rapidly improved.  “I can go home,” he grinned excitedly.  “All my tests came back clear and I’m eating better, so Doctor Camden said I was free to go.  I’m just waiting for them to test my blood and urine one last time and then we can leave.”

“That’s brilliant news Tommy,” Dennis replied happily.  “But I haven’t brought you any clothes, I can’t take you home in a t-shirt and boxers.”

“I don’t give a fuck _what_ I’m wearing,” Tom answered, his good mood suddenly evaporating.  “I just want to go home.”

“Hey,” Dennis replied softly.  He walked over to Tom and sat down on the bed, draping an arm around his bony shoulders.  “Let’s do this right, okay?  It won’t take me long to go shopping and buy you some new clothes and by the time I come back, you’ll have your final results and then we can leave.”

Tom managed a small smile.  “Yeah, okay.  I guess I can wait a little longer.”  Twisting his head, he gazed up at Dennis.  “Sorry.”

Smiling down at Tom, Dennis gave him a squeeze.  “Don’t apologize.  I know you want to get out of here.”   Standing up, he checked his watch.  “I’ll be back after lunch.”

This time, Tom managed to grin.  “Don’t be late.”

Returning the grin, Dennis turned and walked out of the room.  “Make sure you eat something,” he called over his shoulder.  Walking down the long corridor, he felt slightly apprehensive.  He suddenly began to doubt his ability to be able to give Tom the care he needed.  

But as the memory of Tom’s excited face popped into his mind, he felt all his doubts wash away.  He loved Tom and as the poets often wrote… love heals all wounds. 


	21. What Shall We Do Now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Dennis arrived early the next morning to find Tom’s mood rapidly improved.  “I can go home,” he grinned excitedly.  “All my tests came back clear and I’m eating better, so Doctor Camden said I was free to go.  I’m just waiting for them to test my blood and urine one last time and then we can leave.”_
> 
> _“That’s brilliant news Tommy,” Dennis replied happily.  “But I haven’t brought you any clothes, I can’t take you home in a t-shirt and boxers.”_
> 
> _“I don’t give a fuck what I’m wearing,” Tom answered, his good mood suddenly evaporating.  “I just want to go home.”_
> 
> _“Hey,” Dennis replied softly.  He walked over to Tom and sat down on the bed, draping an arm around his bony shoulders.  “Let’s do this right, okay?  It won’t take me long to go shopping and buy you some new clothes and by the time I come back, you’ll have your final results and then we can leave.”_
> 
> _Tom managed a small smile.  “Yeah, okay.  I guess I can wait a little longer.”  Twisting his head, he gazed up at Dennis.  “Sorry.”_
> 
> _Smiling down at Tom, Dennis gave him a squeeze.  “Don’t apologize.  I know you want to get out of here.”   Standing up, he checked his watch.  “I’ll be back after lunch.”_
> 
> _This time, Tom managed to grin.  “Don’t be late.”_
> 
> _Returning the grin, Dennis turned and walked out of the room.  “Make sure you eat something,” he called over his shoulder.  Walking down the long corridor, he felt slightly apprehensive.  He suddenly began to doubt his ability to be able to give Tom the care he needed._
> 
> _But as the memory of Tom’s excited face popped into his mind, he felt all his doubts wash away.  He loved Tom and as the poets often wrote… love heals all wounds._

**What Shall We Do Now?**  

As Booker drove through the busy L.A. streets, Tom became increasingly quiet.  He had left the hospital in a jubilant mood but as he stared out of the open window, the sights and sounds brought back painful memories and his stomach churned.  Winding up the window, he stared straight ahead and concentrated on not throwing up his lunch.  He had spent nearly two weeks confined within the safety of the hospital and he had forgotten how harsh and noisy the streets outside really were.  But it was the smell that evoked the most vivid memories.  The stench of car fumes and decaying food had assaulted his nostrils the moment they left the hospital and he briefly wondered if he had ever breathed in clean air.

Dennis cast a worried glance over at Tom.  Reaching out, he laid a hand on his knee and gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.  “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, concerned at how pale Tom’s face was.

Hanson’s eyes bulged and he clamped a hand over his mouth.  “Pull over!” he gasped.

Booker veered to the curb and hit the brakes.  A volley of car horns sounded from behind, as Tom threw open the door and vomited into the gutter.  Several passersby cried out in disgust and Dennis felt like yelling at them that it was not Hanson’s fault.  Instead, he reached over and gently rubbed Tom’s back.  A minute passed before Hanson sat up and closed the door.  Wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, he gave Dennis a watery smile.  “I’d forgotten the smell,” he confessed.  “I guess it brought back some unwanted memories.”

Booker gave him a tender look.  “Are you okay or do you want to sit awhile?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” Tom muttered.  “I really just want to get home.”

Dennis gave a nod of understanding and flicking on the car’s indicator, he slowly pulled out into the traffic.  Twenty minutes later, he drove into the underground car park of his apartment building and parked in his space.  Turning off the engine, he turned to face Tom.  “Home sweet home,” he grinned and Tom managed a small smile in return.  They caught the lift and alighted at the fourth floor.  Once again, Hanson’s mind filled with memories and he felt overcome with emotion.  Dennis unlocked the door and pushed it open so Tom could enter.  As he stepped over the threshold, tears filled Hanson's eyes but he quickly blinked them away.  He did not want Dennis worrying unduly and he wanted his home coming to be a happy event, not a painful one.  He owed Booker that much.  

At the sound of the door closing, he turned and gave Dennis a forced smile.  “It’s great to be back,” he enthused, hoping that Booker would not see through his charade.  

But Dennis was far more astute than Tom gave him credit for.   Stepping forward, he placed a light hand on Hanson’s shoulder.  “It’s okay Tommy, I understand that this is difficult for you.”

Tom’s façade immediately crumbled and he let out a soft sigh.  “I’m just so tired,” he replied in a quiet voice.

Taking hold of Tom’s arm, Dennis gently steered him into the bedroom.  When Hanson began to protest about taking the bed, Dennis immediately hushed him.  “We’ll work out the sleeping arrangements later, but for now, lie down and try and get some sleep.

Grateful to be able to rest his aching body, Tom stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers and lay down on top of the covers.  The apartment was warm and he did not want to mess up the bed.  Settling back against the plump pillow, his eyelids grew heavy and the muted sounds from behind the closed door gradually became more distant. Eventually his breathing slowed and he fell asleep.

**

Checking his refrigerator, Dennis pondered over what to make for dinner.  He had let his food supply dwindle, as most nights he had either eaten at the hospital or grabbed a burger on the way home.  Remembering Tom’s love of pizza, he decided to wait until Hanson awoke to ask him if that was what he fancied.  Pizza was easy and he could do a food shop in the morning and cook something healthier that evening.

Sitting down at the table, he started opening his mail.  He had let so many day-to-day jobs slide since Tom had been in the hospital and he needed to start getting organized again.  The last thing he needed was to forget to pay the power bill and have his electricity turned off.  He began sorting the letters into two piles; _needs immediate attention_ and _not important_.  As he sliced through an envelope with the letter opener, he heard an agonizing yell from the bedroom.  Jumping out of his seat, he ran the short distance across the living room and threw open the door to find Tom doubled over in pain.  “Oh God… Oh God!” Hanson groaned, his face deathly pale.  “Oh Dennis it hurts… _it hurts!_ ”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Booker gathered Tom into his arms and held him close, knowing that the pain would eventually ease.  He lightly caressed Tom’s hair and little by little, the symptoms subsided.  Gently laying Tom back onto the pillow, he smiled down at him.  “Feeling better?”

The color in Tom’s face started to return and he nodded.  “It’s just a stomach ache now,” he muttered.  “I’ll be fine.”

A long forgotten memory floated into Booker’s mind and he smiled at the image it conjured.  “My mom used to rub my belly whenever I had a stomach pain,” he chuckled.  “And somehow it always made me feel better.”

Tom remained silent for a moment before lifting up his t-shirt.  “It’s worth a try,” he said softly.

Booker’s heart rate quickened as he stared down at Tom’s flat stomach.  Slowly reaching out, he placed a trembling hand against Tom’s warm skin and gently began to rub his abdomen in a slow circular motion.  Hanson’s eyes closed and he let out a faint sigh.  “Mmm, that feels good,” he murmured.  As Dennis’ hand continued to caress his naked skin, Tom felt a stirring in his groin and a soft moan escaped his lips.  With each swirling motion of Dennis’ hand over his stomach, his cock hardened a little more and he yearned for release.  Opening his eyes, he stared up into Dennis bewildered face.  He knew he was putting Booker in a difficult position but he wanted it… hell, he _needed_ it.  Lifting an unsteady hand, he placed it on top of Booker’s and gently pushed it downwards towards his growing erection.  “Please,” he begged, his eyes filled with longing.  “I want to feel something… I want to feel loved.  I want to feel something just for _me_.”

Dennis breath hitched in his throat and he gazed down at Hanson with a worried expression.  “Tommy, I don’t know if this is such a good—”

“Please Dennis,” Tom moaned.  “Please touch me… I want you to touch me.”

Without giving himself time to think about what he was doing, Dennis took a deep breath and slid his fingers into the waistband of Tom’s boxers, gently releasing his semi-erect cock.  Hanson let out a soft cry and his hips lifted up off the mattress.  Swallowing the lump in his throat, Dennis’ fingers gently tugged at Tom’s cock, bringing it to life.  Hanson’s hands grabbed at the bedding and he squirmed beneath Booker’s touch.  “Oh Jesus,” he groaned with pleasure.  “That feels so fucking good.”  Dennis’ hand started to pump faster and Tom became more vocal as his orgasm rose.  “Oh God!  Oh God!  Oh sí… oh sí… oh sí… me gusta… me gusta!”

Hearing Tom utter the Spanish words brought Booker back to reality with a thud and he started to panic.  But it was too late to stop.  Tom’s hips lifted off the bed and he cried out in delight as he ejaculated over Dennis’ fingers and onto his own stomach.  Booker stared down in horror, unable to believe what he had just done.  Seeing Booker’s dismayed expression, Tom threw an arm over his face and burst into tears.  Dennis sat staring at his hand, his mind not wanting to comprehend what had just happened.  Tom had only been in his care for a few hours and already he had taken advantage of his confused state of mind.  His lust for Hanson was too strong and he had been unable to push temptation aside.  Once again, he had failed his friend. 

“Why d-do I keep f-fucking everything u-up?” Tom wept, his chest heaving heavily with emotion.  “I’m s-sorry Dennis… I’m s-so f-fucking sorry!”

Grabbing a discarded towel from the floor, Booker wiped his sticky hand before gently cleaning up the mess on Tom’s stomach.  Folding the towel in half, he laid it across Tom’s waist, covering his nakedness.  Lying down on the bed so he was facing Tom, he gently brushed the sobbing man’s hair from his eyes.  “You didn’t do anything wrong Tommy,” he soothed.  “I wanted to touch you, I’ve wanted to touch you since I first met you.  I’m the one to blame, I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you.  You’re still very confused and I should have known that.” 

Tom’s tears gradually subsided and he propped himself up on his elbow and stared deep into Booker’s eyes.  “I’m not confused,” he replied quietly, a soft pout forming on his full lips.  “I knew exactly what I wanted.”

Dennis’ breathing intensified.  “You did?” 

A light flush tinged Tom’s cheeks and he lowered his gaze.  “Every man I’ve been with has treated me like a whore,” he whispered.  “You treat me with love and respect.”  A long silence stretched out between them before the hint of a shy smile played over Tom’s lips.  “Are you in love with me Dennis?”

This was the moment Booker had dreamed about, but now that it had finally arrived, he had no idea what to say.  Yes he was in love with Tom but would admitting it be a help or a hindrance to his friend’s recovery?  His mind was in turmoil, the pros and cons of declaring his feelings spinning frantically around in his brain.  Then, for the briefest of moments, there was a burst of clarity.  It was simple; he had made a promise never to lie to Tom again.  A bible verse from his childhood suddenly popped into his mind: _Then you will know the truth and the truth will set you free._   It was then that Dennis knew what to do.

Placing his fingers underneath Tom’s chin, he gently tilted his face so they were once again making eye contact.  He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and he wondered if Tom’s was racing just as rapidly.  “Yes Tommy,” he breathed.  “I’m in love with you.”

Tom’s blush deepened and he gave a lopsided smile.  “I think I might be falling in love with you too,” he replied quietly.  “But I don’t know what that means… I mean… what do we do now?”

This time Dennis had the answer immediately.  “We take it slow,” he murmured, leaning over and kissing Tom on the forehead.  “The most important thing is for you to get well.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t like you when we first met,” Tom teased cheekily.

Laughing aloud, Dennis punched him in the arm.  “Asshole,” he replied good-naturedly.  “I guess you’ll never let me forget that, will you?”

Tom grinned back, but his face suddenly looked tired.  Rolling onto his back, he sighed heavily.  “I hate feeling like shit.”

Sitting up, Dennis trailed a finger lovingly down Tom’s cheek.  “Give it time baby, it’s only been a few weeks.”  Climbing off the bed, he pulled back the covers.  “C’mon, get some rest and then we can think about dinner.”

Tucking himself back into his boxers, Hanson crawled under the sheets.  “Pizza?” he murmured, closing his eyes.

Booker smiled.  “Pizza it is.”  Walking out of the room, he softly closed the door behind him.  Sitting down on the couch, he contemplated pouring himself a stiff drink to calm his nerves but he decided against it.  Tom was a recovering drug-addict and he did not want Hanson replacing cocaine and heroin with alcohol as a means of escaping reality.  He made a mental note to get rid of the beers and bottles of wine in his refrigerator.  He did not want to leave any temptations around the house for Tom.

Leaning back against the cushions, he placed his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.  He immediately thought about what had happened in the bedroom and a shiver of excitement ran down his spine.  The feel of Tom’s erection between his fingers had been exhilarating and he longed to explore Hanson’s body further.  A frown creased his forehead when he remembered Tom crying out the Spanish words just before he climaxed.  It was obvious that he still suffered a deep mental scarring from his time in El Salvador, which was not always apparent on the surface.  Dennis made the decision to encourage Tom to talk about the horror two-year period of his life with his therapist in the hope that eventually, he would be able to heal the emotional trauma he had suffered.

Booker's mind returned to his promise to take things slow.  Tom’s emotional state was still extremely fragile and he did not want the pressures of a relationship interfering with his recovery.  They had probably made a huge mistake entering into an affair so early in Tom’s rehabilitation but it had happened and there was no turning back.  He just hoped that this time, there would be no hurdles blocking Tom’s way to finding happiness.

Needing to give his mind a break from the mind-blowing revelation that he and Tom were finally on the road to becoming a couple, Dennis stood up and went back to sorting through his mail.  An hour later he had everything organized and looking at the clock, he realized he was hungry.  Walking over to the closed bedroom door, he knocked softly and turned the handle.  Tom lay on his side sleeping peaceful.  Dennis felt torn between letting Hanson sleep and waking him so he could eat.  Deciding that Tom really needed to start gaining some weight, he moved quietly over to the bed and sat down next to Hanson’s prone body.

When the mattress depressed, Tom woke with a start, his eyes wide with fear.  Seeing Dennis, his expression relaxed and he gave an embarrassed smile.  “Sorry, I guess I’m still a little jumpy.”

Stroking his hand over Tom’s tousled hair, Dennis gave him a loving look.  “That’s okay, it’s to be expected.”  Rubbing a strand of Tom’s hair through his fingers, he smiled cheerfully.  “Hungry?” he asked.

Tom nodded.  Sitting up, he rubbed his fingers over his eyes.  “And thirsty.”

Dennis stood up.  “C’mon then, get dressed and I’ll order the pizza.”

Forty-five minutes later, they were sitting on the couch together, eating a pepperoni pie.  Dennis was slightly concerned to see how little Tom ate but he decided not to push the point.  When they had finished, Tom put a hand over his mouth and stifled a yawn.  He still suffered from bouts of insomnia and he felt permanently tired, even when he did manage to sleep.  Standing up, he gazed at Dennis awkwardly.  “Um, I think I’ll call it night.  I’ll take the couch and you can have your bed back.”

Standing up, Dennis cleared away the remnants of their meal.  “You take the bed,” he called over his shoulder, not wanting to make a big deal of the situation.  “I’m happy with the couch, it means I can watch TV.”

Following Dennis into the kitchen, Tom laid a hand on his shoulder.  “We could both share the bed,” he murmured.  “I mean… if you want to.”

Booker’s stomach flip-flopped and he gave Tom a gentle smile.  “I thought we agreed we’d take it slow.”

Tom’s cheeks flushed pink and his lower lip protruded into a soft pout.  “I don’t want to sleep alone,” he mumbled.  “I want to feel you next to me.”

Sensing Tom’s humiliation at his confession, Booker tenderly caressed his cheek.  “Sure Tommy, whatever you want.”

Toeing the floor self-consciously, Tom gave lopsided smile.  “Okay, well goodnight.”

“Night,” Dennis replied and he watched Hanson enter the bedroom and close the door.  In an effort to get the thought of Tom sleeping in his bed out of his mind, he busied himself tidying up the kitchen.  When he had washed and dried the dishes, he sat down in front of the TV and attempted to lose himself in a black and white movie.  

After half an hour, he sighed in frustration and switched off the television.  Kicking off his boots, he carefully opened the bedroom door and padded softly across the floor.  He could hear Hanson’s soft breathing and he silently undressed down to his boxers and t-shirt.  Pulling back the bedclothes, he slid between the cool sheets and lay on his back with one hand behind his head.  He felt movement next to him and he flinched when he felt Tom’s arm circle his waist and snuggle in close.  “Hold me,” Tom murmured sleepily.

Placing an arm around Tom, Dennis pulled him close so that Hanson’s head rested on his chest.  “Tócame,” Tom muttered and Dennis’ heart rate quickened at the memory of the word.  Slowly lifting his hand, he laid it on top of Tom’s head and gently began to caress his hair.  “Mmm, me gusta,” Tom mumbled as his breathing slowed and within moments, he was fast asleep. 

Dennis lay wide-awake, staring at the ceiling.  He was terrified at how quickly he had become aroused when Tom had snuggled against him and started speaking Spanish.  His semi-erect cock longed to be touched but he ignored it.  It bothered him that Spanish speaking Tom elicited such a strong desire with him.

It was then that he realized that taking things slow with Hanson was not going to be as easy as he first thought.  



	22. Take it Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Standing up, Dennis cleared away the remnants of their meal.  “You take the bed,” he called over his shoulder, not wanting to make a big deal of the situation.  “I’m happy with the couch, it means I can watch TV.”_
> 
> _Following Dennis into the kitchen, Tom laid a hand on his shoulder.  “We could both share the bed,” he murmured.  “I mean… if you want to.”_
> 
> _Booker’s stomach flip-flopped and he gave Tom a gentle smile.  “I thought we agreed we’d take it slow.”_
> 
> _Tom’s cheeks flushed pink and his lower lip protruded into a soft pout.  “I don’t want to sleep alone,” he mumbled.  “I want to feel you next to me.”_
> 
> _Sensing Tom’s humiliation at his confession, Booker tenderly caressed his cheek.  “Sure Tommy, whatever you want.”_
> 
> _Toeing the floor self-consciously, Tom gave lopsided smile.  “Okay, well goodnight.”_
> 
> _“Night,” Dennis replied and he watched Hanson enter the bedroom and close the door.  In an effort to get the thought of Tom sleeping in his bed out of his mind, he busied himself tidying up the kitchen.  When he had washed and dried the dishes, he sat down in front of the TV and attempted to lose himself in a black and white movie._
> 
> _After half an hour, he sighed in frustration and switched of the television.  Kicking off his boots, he carefully opened the bedroom door and padded softly across the floor.  He could hear Hanson’s soft breathing and he silently undressed down to his boxers and t-shirt.  Pulling back the bedclothes, he slid between the cool sheets and lay on his back with one hand behind his head.  He felt movement next to him and he flinched when he felt Tom’s arm circle his waist and snuggle in close.  “Hold me,” Tom murmured sleepily._
> 
> _Placing an arm around Tom, Dennis pulled him close so that Hanson’s head rested on his chest.  “Tócame,” Tom muttered and Dennis’ heart rate quickened at the memory of the word.  Slowly lifting his hand, he laid it on top of Tom’s head and gently began to caress his hair.  “Mmm, me gusta,” Tom mumbled as his breathing slowed and within moments, he was fast asleep._
> 
> _Dennis lay wide-awake, staring at the ceiling.  He was terrified at how quickly he had become aroused when Tom had snuggled against him and started speaking Spanish.  His semi-erect cock longed to be touched but he ignored it.  It bothered him that Spanish speaking Tom elicited such a strong desire with him._
> 
> _It was then that he realized that taking things slow with Hanson was not going to be as easy as he first thought._

**Take It Back**  

The feel of Tom’s body pressing against him woke Dennis from a troubled sleep.  His early morning erection strained against the confines of his boxers and he bit down on his lower lip and willed it to disappear.  Carefully rolling onto his side, he turned his back to Hanson and stared blankly at the wall.  A moment later, Tom shifted position, spooning himself against Dennis, his semi-erect cock pressing against Booker’s backside.  The sensation was too much for Booker and he let out a frustrated groan.  A few seconds later, he heard Tom’s sleepy voice.  “Are you okay Dennis?” 

Booker briefly considered pretending he was still asleep but eventually, he rolled over so he was facing Tom.  “I’m fine,” he sighed.  

The next words out of Tom’s mouth were a complete shock for him.  “I’m horny,” Tom murmured, his dilated pupils blackening his eyes.  

“Jesus Tommy,” Dennis moaned, licking his lips nervously.  “I thought we agreed—”

“I don’t care what we agreed,” Tom replied, pushing his lower lip into a soft pout and staring back sulkily.  “I’m tired of feeling crappy.  I want to feel good.”

Staring into Tom’s beautiful face, Dennis found himself weakening.  Sensing that he was on the verge of victory, Tom leaned forward and brushed his lips against Dennis’, barely making contact against the protruding flesh.  A jolt of electricity shot down Booker’s spine and he pulled Hanson into his arms, kissing him passionately.  Their tongues intertwined, clashing fervently as they explored each other’s hot, moist mouths.  Pushing Dennis onto his back, Tom rolled on top so he could grind his cock against Dennis’ hardness.  Groaning in pleasure, Booker’s hands grasped Tom’s buttocks and he moved him forward and backwards, increasing the friction between their erections.  Tom’s mouth found Dennis’ throat and he sucked and nipped as he thrust against Dennis’ pelvis.  “Oh, quiero lefa,” he moaned softly.  _Oh, I want to come._

Once again, the Spanish language had an emotional impact on Dennis and his cock began to weep heavily.  Flipping them both onto their sides, he frantically pushed down Tom’s boxers and wrapping his fingers around his cock, he began to work his fist over Hanson’s erection.  

Tom cried out in pleasure.  “Oh me gusta!  ME GUSTA!” he screamed, his body arching backwards.  Fumbling his hand downwards, he found Dennis’ weeping cock and began to jerk him off.  

“Oh FUCK!” Dennis yelled, as he writhed beneath Tom’s touch.  “Oh Tommy… oh Tommy… oh _TOMMEEE!”_

Dennis’ orgasm hit hard and he shot his semen over Tom’s fingers and onto his stomach.  A second later, Tom shouted Dennis’ name, his body shuddering violently as he reached his release.  When their bodies relaxed, Dennis leaned forward and kissed Tom slowly and tenderly, taking the time to enjoy the kiss.  Pulling back, he smiled uncertainly.  “Shit,” he whispered nervously.

Not feeling any of Dennis’ anxiety, Tom laid his head on Booker’s smooth, broad chest and sighed contentedly.  “Mmm, that felt fucking amazing,” he murmured, his finger lightly circling the indentation of Dennis’ navel.  After several minutes passed in silence, he propped himself up on his elbow and gazed up into Booker’s troubled eyes.  “Relax Dennis, I’m not about to have a flashback or a breakdown or whatever it is that you’re worried about.  What we’re doing isn’t wrong.  I have feelings for you and you have feelings for me.  We’re consenting adults.  What’s the problem?”

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Dennis sat up and ran a hand through his tousled hair.  “I feel like I’m taking advantage of you Tom.  You’ve been abused by so many different men and—”

Tom sat up, abruptly interrupting Dennis’ words.  “You think I’m a fucking nut job!” he yelled.  “Well FUCK YOU, you smug bastard!  It must be fucking wonderful to have lived such a wholesome life.  I bet this is the first time you’ve bedded down next to a whore!”

Dennis’ eyes widened in shock at the viciousness of Tom’s tirade.  Twisting his body to face Tom, he stared at him in disbelief.  “Why are you attacking me?  I’m trying to protect you.”

Pulling up his boxers, Tom climbed off the bed.  “GET FUCKED!” he screamed, tears streaming down his face.  “I fucking hate you!  You make me feel more like a whore than any of those men ever did!”  Stumbling blindly from the room, he found his way to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.  Leaning against the wooden panel, he slid to the floor and drawing up his legs, he sobbed uncontrollably.  He felt dirty and worthless and he began to wonder if he really was destined to live out his life as _Hermoso Puto_.  Shuddering violently, he clenched his fists as a strong craving for heroin racked his body.  He wanted the warm, safe feeling that he experienced when the drug hit his system, the pleasure high that was an indescribable sensation for those who had never used.  The feeling was so strong, he doubled over in pain, panting heavily.  The attack left him feeling weak and sweaty and struggling to his feet, he leaned against the hand basin for support.  When his body stopped trembling, he turned on the cold faucet and splashed his face with water, cooling his flushed skin.

A gentle knock on the door made him jump.  “What?” he snapped, turning off the faucet and drying his face with a towel. 

Dennis’ voice sounded muffled from the other side of the door.  “Can I come in?”

“It’s your bathroom,” Tom replied sullenly.

The door pushed open and Dennis entered the room looking concerned.  He felt a pang of remorse when he saw Tom’s pale, angry face.   “I’m sorry,” he apologized softly, his fingers scratching nervously at the back of his head.  “You’re a grown man and you can make your own decisions.”

Tom stared back at him silently.  Stepping forward, Dennis took hold of Hanson’s hand and gave it a squeeze.  “What more do you want me to say Tommy?” he asked quietly.  “I admit it, I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did after… it’s just, I care about you so much, I’m terrified of hurting you.”

Pulling his hand away, Tom glared back angrily.  “People hurt each other Booker,” he said, unconsciously using the name he had always used when they worked together.  “You can’t protect me from everything.  I want to be treated the same as everyone else.  Don’t you see?  The more you cosset me, the more you make me feel like a worthless piece of shit!”

As he digested Tom’s words, Dennis slowly realized how stupid he had been.  By trying to protect Hanson, he had in fact, continued to make him feel like an outcast.  “Jesus,” he whispered, his expression contrite.  “You’re right.  I’m so sorry Tommy, I didn’t realize.  I never meant to make you feel worthless.”

Tom’s expression softened.  “I know you didn’t,” he mumbled.  “I guess I’m just a little sensitive.”

Taking Tom’s hand, Dennis cocked his head on one side and gave him a sheepish grin.  “Am I forgiven?” he asked quietly.

Moving forward, Tom circled an arm around Booker’s waist.  “Depends,” he murmured in Dennis’ ear.  “Will you shower with me?”

Dennis let out a moan of pleasure.  “Yes,” he breathed, his hand travelling to Tom’s backside and giving his cheek a gentle squeeze.  Taking hold of the bottom of Tom’s t-shirt, Dennis lifted it over his head.  Next, he inserted his thumbs into the waistband of Tom’s boxers and slowly lowered them to the floor.  Hanson quickly stepped out of the material and kicked them to one side.  Booker undressed and leaning into the shower cubicle, he adjusted the faucets until a warm spray of water flowed from the shower head.  When Tom stepped under the cascading water, Dennis could see that his back still bore the scars of the brutality inflicted upon him whilst in El Salvador.  There were other, fresher wounds damaging his skin, a reminder of his life on the streets.  Booker bit down on his lip and kept his expression neutral.  He did not want Tom to witness the pain he felt when he saw the remnants of the violence Hanson had suffered at the hands of his abuses.  Tom had made it perfectly clear that he did not want his pity or his concern.  He needed to start thinking of him as survivor and not a victim.

Joining Tom under the warm spray of water, Booker let his hands travel up and down Hanson’s slender body.  Tom stood silently, his hands resting lightly on Dennis’ hips.  As they gazed into each other’s eyes, their lips touched and they kissed slowly and tenderly.  Placing his hands on Tom’s buttocks, Dennis pulled him close so he could feel his cock pressing against him.  Breaking the kiss, his mouth found Tom’s ear and he sucked and nipped at the lobe.  He felt Tom’s cock twitch to life and he pressed his lips against his throat.  “Do you want me to suck you?” he moaned as he nipped at the taut flesh.

Tom groaned loudly.  “Fuck yeah.”

As he slowly dropped to his knees, Dennis trailed kisses down Tom’s soft skin.  Kneeling on the hard, tiled floor, he gazed up into Hanson’s tranquil face.  “Ready,” he asked.

Tom nodded expectantly.  Laying one hand against Tom’s hip, Booker wrapped the fingers of his other hand around the base of Tom’s semi-erect cock.  Taking a deep breath, he softly pressed his lips against Tom’s cockhead, kissing it tenderly.  Hanson let out a moan of pleasure and his hips rocked forward.  “Again,” he murmured.  “Kiss it again.”

Smiling, Dennis placed his mouth back against Tom’s slit and kissed it lightly, opening his lips slightly so he could suck gently against the tip.

This time, Tom cried out his delight and his legs began to tremble.  “Oh Jesus Dennis, oh fuck!  Again... _again!”_

Dennis did not hold back.  Wrapping his lips around Tom’s engorged head, he moved his mouth up and down Tom’s shaft whilst making a soft, vibrating _mmm_ sound.  Hanson buried his fingers in Dennis’ hair, pulling at it painfully.  “OH FUCK!” he yelled and he thrust his cock deep into Booker’s mouth.  Reaching down, Booker wrapped his fingers around his own cock and began to masturbate whilst sucking and swirling his tongue around Hanson’s engorged head.  Throwing back his head, Tom pumped his cock in and out of Dennis accommodating mouth.  “Ahhh… ahhh… ahhh… se siente tan bien!” he cried, his hips thrusting faster.  _It feels so good!_   He felt his orgasm rising and with a yell, he shuddered his release.  

Dennis swallowed deeply, savoring Tom’s unique taste.  As he lapped and sucked at Tom’s softening cock, he felt Tom’s hands stroking his hair.  The gentleness of his touch pushed him over the edge and he ejaculated over his fingers, the warm water swirling his sticky fluid down the drain.  Panting heavily, he rose to his feet where Tom’s mouth met his with a tender kiss.  Wrapping his arms around Tom’s slippery body, he buried his face against his neck.  “God Tommy,” he groaned.  “You are so fucking hot.”

Tom grinned.  “And you give the best blowjob.  Where the fuck did you learn that humming thing?”

Lifting his head, Dennis smiled cheekily.  “Years of practice.  Men know what men like, it’s that simple.”

“You’ll have to teach me,” Tom murmured, his eyes shining seductively.

“Count on it,” Booker replied softly.  

Picking up the soap, he gently lathered Tom’s body, being carefully not to hurt the wounds on his back.  When he was finished, he washed and rinsed Tom’s hair before Tom returned the favor.  Clean and sated, they stepped out of the shower and slowly dried each other’s bodies.  Returning to the bedroom, they dressed in near identical clothing, laughing at the absurdity of it.  

After a light breakfast, Dennis picked up his jacket and shrugged it on.  “I need to get some groceries, do you want to come or do you want to stay here,” he asked.

Lying down on the couch, Tom picked up the TV remote.  “Stay here,” he replied absently as he flicked through the channels.

Dennis bent over and kissed the top of Tom’s head.  “Okay, see you in a while.”

As he walked the short distance to the local supermarket, Dennis could not keep a grin off his face.  He could not remember the last time he had achieved two orgasms so close together.  Tom made him so horny he doubted he would ever be able to keep his hands off him.  But he needed to remember that there was a serious side to their relationship.  Tom was a recovering addict and his recuperation was the most important thing.  

Walking into the store, he picked up a basket and began throwing in various items.  His first goal in Tom’s recovery was to get him eating more.  Smiling to himself, he shook his head in amusement.  He was becoming domesticated and he suddenly realized why.  He loved Tom Hanson more than any lover had had ever had and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him.  It had happened so quickly but he felt himself being pulled into the comfortable day to day existence of being a couple and he could not have been happier.  After spending years searching for Tom, he could now enjoy having him in his life and he hoped it would last forever.  



	23. Sorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: After a light breakfast, Dennis picked up his jacket and shrugged it on.  “I need to get some groceries, do you want to come or do you want to stay here,” he asked._
> 
> _Lying down on the couch, Tom picked up the TV remote.  “Stay here,” he replied absently as he flicked through the channels._
> 
> _Dennis bent over and kissed the top of Tom’s head.  “Okay, see you in a while.”_
> 
> _As he walked the short distance to the local supermarket, Dennis could not keep a grin off his face.  He could not remember the last time he had achieved two orgasms so close together.  Tom made him so horny he doubted he would ever be able to keep his hands off him.  But he needed to remember that there was a serious side to their relationship.  Tom was a recovering addict and his recuperation was the most important thing._
> 
> _Walking into the store, he picked up a basket and began throwing in various items.  His first goal in Tom’s recovery was to get him eating more.  Smiling to himself, he shook his head in amusement.  He was becoming domesticated and he suddenly realized why.  He loved Tom Hanson more than any lover had had ever had and he wanted to spend the rest of his life with him.  It had happened so quickly but he felt himself being pulled into the comfortable day to day existence of being a couple and he could not have been happier.  After spending years searching for Tom, he could now enjoy having him in his life and he hoped it would last forever._

**Sorrow**  

Pushing open the door to his apartment, Booker carried in several brown bags of groceries.  Dropping his keys into the metal bowl next to the door, his eyes searched the room for Tom.  He kicked the door closed with his foot and called out his lover’s name but after receiving no reply, he carried the bags into the kitchen and deposited them onto the bench top.  “Tommy?” he called again and this time he heard a faint voice coming from the bathroom.

Walking in, he found Tom sitting on the floor with blood pouring from his nose.  The red fluid covered his fingers and dripped down onto the white tiled floor as he attempted to stem the flow.  “It won’t stop,” Hanson gasped.  “It’s been over ten minutes.”

Sitting down on the floor, Dennis placed a hand against the back of Tom's neck.  “Just keep tilting your head forward and pinch your nose, it’ll ease soon.”

“I hate feeling like this,” Tom muttered, his voice sounding stuffy through his blocked nostrils.  “When the hell will it end?”

Dennis’ fingers lightly played with the hair at the nape of Tom’s neck.  “You’ve got to take one day at a time Tommy.  Each day it will get a little better.”

“I’m fucking sick of one day at a time!” Tom shouted, bright dollops of blood splashing across the floor as he scrambled to his feet.  “Haven’t I been through enough?”

Rising to his feet, Dennis gave Tom a sad look.  “Yes you have,” he replied quietly.  “But every action has a consequence and this is a symptom of your drug use.  I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do to help you.”

Tom shot Booker a snide look.  “Well thank you _Doctor_ Booker, you’ve been most helpful.”

Dennis remained silent, preferring to ignore Tom’s sarcastic remark rather than snap back.  It was obvious that Hanson was in a bad mood and there was nothing to gain by arguing with him.  Turning away, he walked back into the living area and began to unpack the groceries.  Tom emerged a half hour later looking pale and drawn.  “I need to clean up the bathroom,” he mumbled.

About to say that he would do it, Dennis caught himself just in time.  Tom had made it clear that he did not want any special treatment and his earlier derisive remark had pissed Booker off.  Nodding towards the kitchen, he continued to watch TV.  “There’s a bucket and cleaning stuff under the sink.”

Hanson found the necessary supplies and returned to the bathroom.  When twenty minutes passed and he did not return, Booker peered over the back of the couch and saw that the bathroom was now empty.  He waited a further ten minutes before standing up and walking into the bedroom, where he found Tom curled up on the bed with his eyes closed.  Sighing heavily, Dennis moved forward and sat down on the edge of the bed.  Reaching out, he ran a finger lightly over the faded bruises on Tom’s face.  “Are you mad at me?” he asked quietly.

Without opening his eyes, Tom shook his head.  “Then what’s wrong Tommy?” Booker asked.  

Several minutes passed before Hanson opened his eyes.  “Where’s my mom?” 

The question completely baffled Dennis.  It was his understanding that during Tom's treatment in Glenfield, a therapist had advised him of his mother’s death.  Now, after nearly a year, he was asking where she was.  Booker felt uneasy, he was not sure he was equipped to deal with such a delicate subject.  But Tom gazed at him expectantly, waiting for an answer and he knew he had no choice but to give him the news.  Cupping Tom’s face in his hand, he gazed at him compassionately.  “Tommy I’m so sorry, I thought you knew.  Your mom passed away two and a half years ago from a massive heart attack.”

Shaking his head, Tom sighed impatiently.  “No, that’s not what I mean.  I know she’s dead, I want to know where she’s buried.”

“Oh,” Dennis replied.  “Sorry.  She’s um… she’s buried at Greenhills.  It was a beautiful service, lots of people and—”

“You went?” Tom asked, his eyes widening in surprise.  

Dennis ran a shaky hand through his hair.  “Well, yeah.  I wanted someone to represent you Tommy and I got to know your mom pretty well during the time I was searching for you. Plus, I really liked her, she was a very special lady.”

Tom closed his eyes and a single teardrop leaked from beneath his eyelids and slowly slid down his face.  For Dennis, watching that single tear wind its way down Tom’s beautiful face was more heart wrenching than if he had wept openly.  Crawling onto the bed, he gently pulled Hanson against his chest and held him close.  “God Tommy, I’m so sorry about your mom and I’m so sorry you didn’t get to say goodbye.”

Tom listened to the steady rhythm of Booker’s heartbeat and he started to relax as light fingers played with his hair.  He thought about his mom and he wondered what she had felt when he went missing.  He hated the thought that she had died alone and he wished more than anything, that he had been there to hold her one last time.  But secretly he was glad that she never knew the horrors he had experienced in the jungles of El Salvador.  He did not think she would have coped with the knowledge of her son’s rapes and it was better that she went to her grave never knowing the full extent of his ordeal.

Reluctantly releasing himself from Dennis’ comforting embrace, Tom sat up and wiped a hand over his teary eyes. Taking hold of his lover’s hand, he managed a half smile.  “I’m glad you were there, it means a lot to me and it would have meant a lot to her.”

Sitting back up, Booker squeezed Tom’s fingers, his expression becoming sober.  “Do you want to go see her?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Hanson replied softly.  “I do.”

Booker pulled Tom into a hug and they held each other close for several minutes.  Releasing his hold, Dennis kissed Tom tenderly on the lips.  “Tomorrow,” he promised.  “We’ll get some flowers on the way.”

Tom nodded.  “Okay, thanks Dennis.”

Dennis watched as Tom climbed off the bed and exited the room.  Once again, he had handled things badly.  He should have taken Tom to see his mother’s grave when he first came home from Glenfield.  Suddenly, another thought popped into his mind and he wondered how he could have forgotten.  When Tom went missing, his mother had put all of his belongings into storage.  After her death, the solicitor had placed everything in trust pending Tom’s safe return.  Monetarily speaking, there was very little but there were photographs and other precious mementos that were irreplaceable.  Letting out a sigh, Dennis wandered into the living room.  He found Tom lying on the couch, absently flicking through the TV channels.  Lifting Tom’s feet off the seat, he sat down and placed Tom’s legs across his lap before clearing his throat nervously.  “Um Tommy.  I guess there’s some other things we should talk about.  There’s a storage container that has all of your mom’s and your belongings in it.  We can go visit the solicitor who handled your mom’s estate and find out about—”

“Burn it,” Tom replied matter-of-factly, without taking his eyes off the television.

A deep frown creased Dennis’ forehead and he placed a hand on Hanson’s thigh.  “Tom, I don’t think you understand,” he replied.  “Your life is in that container.  All your clothes, photos, mementos.  Everything is there, including all your mom’s possessions.”

Tom sighed with annoyance and flicked off the television.  “No _you_ don’t understand,” he snapped.  “The Tom Hanson who owned all that crap is dead.  He died when that first soldier rammed his cock up his ass and raped him.  He died with the smell of decaying earth in his nostrils and the sound of cicadas in his ears.   I’m not him, not anymore and I’ll never be him again.  Those are _his_ memories, not mine.  I don’t want them.”  Standing up he walked into the bedroom and slammed the door closed with a bang.

“Jesus,” Dennis murmured, rubbing his hand over his lips.  He had not expected such a negative reaction from Tom.  He was once again beginning to worry about Hanson’s state of mind, his mood swings were becoming more and more erratic as each day passed.  There was still another two days to go until he visited his therapist and for Booker, the time could not come soon enough.  He was starting to have grave doubts about entering into a relationship with Tom when he still had so many unresolved issues in his life.   

Staring at the closed bedroom door, he wondered what to do.  In the end, he decided to leave Tom alone.  So far, all had managed to do was cause him more heartache and he was beginning to wonder if perhaps Hanson would be better off without him.

**

Tom did not emerge for lunch and Dennis let him be, figuring that if he were hungry he would come out and make himself something to eat.  When dinnertime came, Booker prepared two steaks and a bowl of vegetables.  Setting the food on the table, he tapped on the bedroom door.  “Food’s up,” he called through the closed door.  When he did not receive an answer, he sat down at the table and proceeded to eat without Tom.  Staring at the empty chair in front of him, he had to resist the urge to go and check to see if Hanson was okay.  As he watched Tom’s food turn cold, his appetite slowly disappeared and he pushed his plate away with a sigh.  Clearing the table, he washed and dried the dishes and made himself a coffee before stretching out on the couch with his hands behind his head.  Staring at the ceiling, he wondered if he should phone Tom’s therapist and ask if he could have an earlier appointment.  Ultimately though, it was not his decision.  Even though the hospital had released Tom into his care, he did not have any authority over his medical treatment.  If he were truly concerned about Hanson’s mental health, his only option was to seek another _Involuntary Commitment Order_ and it would be a dark day in hell before he would go down that path again.

Finishing his coffee, he pulled a blanket out of the linen cupboard and switching off the lights, he curled up on the couch and flicked on the TV.  He spent hours watching reruns of nineteen sixties sitcoms until eventually, his overwrought mind switched off and he fell into a deep sleep.

**

Dennis woke to a sharp stabbing pain in his side.  Reaching underneath his body, he pulled out the television remote and threw it onto the floor.  Yawning loudly, he ran his fingers through his sleep-tousled hair.  Glancing at the clock, he was surprised to see that it was ten minutes past eight.  He had slept longer than he would have thought possible.  Peering over the back of the couch, he saw that his bedroom door remained closed.  Not wanting to face Tom, he padded silently into the bathroom and relieved his bladder before taking a long, hot shower.  Stepping out of the cubicle, he quickly dried off and brushed his teeth.  Running a hand across his stubbled chin, he decided he was in need of a shave.  He took his time, delaying the inevitable when he would have to enter the bedroom and confront an unpredictable Tom.  With his mood changing from one minute to the next Booker had no idea _which_ Tom he would find lying in his bed.  It could be _horny, sexy Tom_ or it could be _angry at the world Tom_.  Dennis felt as though he was walking on eggshells and he was beginning to find the whole situation emotionally exhausting.

Rinsing the shaving cream from his face, he patted himself dry and applied a hint of aftershave.  After wrapping a towel around his waist, he exited the steamy room and stood outside his bedroom.  He lifted his hand to knock but immediately stopped.  It was _his_ bedroom and he had every right to enter it whenever he wanted.  Turning the handle, he pushed open the door and entered the darkened room.  He could see Tom’s outline under the covers but he could not tell whether he was asleep or not.  Pulling on a pair of boxers, he started randomly picking up various t-shirts that lay strewn around the room, checking to see which were clean.  

Settling on a worn Led Zeppelin shirt, he pulled it on over his head.  As he turned to leave, he heard a soft voice behind him.  “Sorry.”

Clenching his fists, Dennis refrained from going over to Tom’s bedside.  “It’s okay Tommy,” he replied with a sigh.  “Go have a shower and get dressed.  I’ll make us some breakfast.”

He walked out of the bedroom and picking up his discarded jeans, he pulled them on.  As he prepared coffee and pancakes, he heard the bathroom door close and the sound of the shower turning on.  Fifteen minutes later, Tom emerged, his hair still damp and wearing clean clothes.  Dennis silently placed the pot of coffee and a plate of pancakes on the table and sitting down, he started to eat.  Tom pulled out a chair and sat down opposite Booker.  Placing his elbows on the table, he rested his chin in his hands and gazed at Dennis with sad eyes.  “You’re pissed,” he stated simply.

“No I’m not,” Dennis mumbled.  “I’m just tired.”

“Bullshit,” Tom replied.  “Just admit it, I piss you off.”

Slamming his fork down on the table, Booker gave Tom an angry glare.  “Okay, I admit it, you piss me off!  I know drug withdrawal causes mood swings but Jesus Christ Tom!  I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I fucking don’t!  You say you don’t want me to treat you differently and then you get angry with me when I don’t help you.  One minute you’re loving and affectionate and the next you’re cold and distant.  Make up your fucking mind!”

Tilting his head on one side, Tom gave Dennis a slow smile.  “Feel better now?”

Shoving his chair backwards, Booker stood up.  “Don’t fucking patronize me Tom.  I’m doing the best I know how.  If it’s not good enough for you, then maybe you should find somewhere else to live.”

Tom stared back in alarm.  “You’re asking me to leave?” he whispered in disbelief.

Seeing the genuine fear and distress on Tom’s face, Dennis immediately regretted uttering the hurtful words.  Moving around the table, he dropped to his knees and pulled Hanson into his arms.  “No baby, I don’t want you to leave,” he murmured, kissing Tom tenderly on the lips.  “I’m sorry, I guess we’re both a little agitated.”

Tom ran his fingers through Dennis’ hair as he stared deep into his dark eyes.  “I’m sorry too.  I don’t know what’s wrong with me but I’m starting to think I might need that therapist more than I thought I did.”

Dennis felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders.  He was certain that once Tom started opening up about his experiences he would begin to heal.  Placing a kiss on the top of Tom’s head, he stood up.  “C’mon, eat something before it goes cold.”

Looking up at his lover, Tom’s expression became sober.  “And then you’ll take me to see my mom?” he asked softly.

Dennis’ eyes filled with love.  “Yes baby, then we’ll go see your mom.”  



	24. Breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Fifteen minutes later, Tom emerged, his hair still damp and wearing clean clothes.  Dennis silently placed the pot of coffee and a plate of pancakes on the table and sitting down, he started to eat.  Tom pulled out a chair and sat down opposite Booker.  Placing his elbows on the table, he rested his chin in his hands and gazed at Dennis with sad eyes.  “You’re pissed,” he stated simply._
> 
> _“No I’m not,” Dennis mumbled.  “I’m just tired.”_
> 
> _“Bullshit,” Tom replied.  “Just admit it, I piss you off.”_
> 
> _Slamming his fork down on the table, Booker gave Tom an angry glare.  “Okay, I admit it, you piss me off!  I know drug withdrawal causes mood swings but Jesus Christ Tom!  I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I fucking don’t!  You say you don’t want me to treat you differently and then you get angry with me when I don’t help you.  One minute you’re loving and affectionate and the next you’re cold and distant.  Make up your fucking mind!”_
> 
> _Tilting his head on one side, Tom gave Dennis a slow smile.  “Feel better now?”_
> 
> _Shoving his chair backwards, Booker stood up.  “Don’t fucking patronize me Tom.  I’m doing the best I know how.  If it’s not good enough for you, then maybe you should find somewhere else to live.”_
> 
> _Tom stared back in alarm.  “You’re asking me to leave?” he whispered in disbelief._
> 
> _Seeing the genuine fear and distress on Tom’s face, Dennis immediately regretted uttering the hurtful words.  Moving around the table, he dropped to his knees and pulled Hanson into his arms.  “No baby, I don’t want you to leave,” he murmured, kissing Tom tenderly on the lips.  “I’m sorry, I guess we’re both a little agitated.”_
> 
> _Tom ran his fingers through Dennis’ hair as he stared deep into his dark eyes.  “I’m sorry too.  I don’t know what’s wrong with me but I’m starting to think I might need that therapist more than I thought I did.”_
> 
> _Dennis felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders.  He was certain that once Tom started opening up about his experiences he would begin to heal.  Placing a kiss on the top of Tom’s head, he stood up.  “C’mon, eat something before it goes cold.”_
> 
> _Looking up at his lover, Tom’s expression became sober.  “And then you’ll take me to see my mom?” he asked softly._
> 
> _Dennis’ eyes filled with love.  “Yes baby, then we’ll go see your mom.”_

**Breathe**  

A cold wind whipped through the cemetery and Dennis pulled up the collar of his leather jacket.  Leaning against his car, he silently watched Tom who was kneeling beside his mother’s grave.  He had made the decision to stand back and give Tom some space, not wanting to intrude on such a private moment.  He respectfully lowered his eyes as Hanson gently laid the bouquet of flowers they had purchased, onto the burial plot.  Thirty minutes passed before Tom stood up and wiped the grass from his knees.  Turning slowly, he cast one last look at his mother’s grave and walked slowly towards the car, his body hunched against the wind and his hands shoved deep into his jeans pockets.  Arriving at the Cadillac, he leaned forward and pressed his body against Booker’s, his head resting against Dennis chest.  There were no tears, just a deep sadness in his dark eyes.  “Hold me,” he murmured against his lover’s neck.

Dennis wrapped his arms around Tom’s trembling body and pulled him close.  “Are you okay?” Booker whispered, kissing Hanson’s hair affectionately.

“Yeah,” Tom sighed, lifting his head and placing his lips against Booker’s soft pout.  They kissed briefly before pulling apart.  Dennis gently brushed Tom’s bangs from his dark eyes.  “Ready to go?” he asked quietly.

Tom nodded and turning away, he climbed into the passenger seat of the car and slammed the door closed.  Dennis stood for a moment, staring at Margaret Hanson’s grave before walking around to the driver’s side and climbing in behind the wheel.  As he drove out of the cemetery gates, he placed a hand on Tom’s knee.  “Do you want to stop somewhere for lunch?” he asked, hoping to bribe Tom into eating something.

Shaking his head, Tom stared out at the suburban houses flashing past his window.  “I’m tired," he mumbled. "I just want to go home."

Deciding that Hanson had endured enough for one day, Dennis headed back towards his apartment.  As soon as he had parked the car, Tom got out and headed towards the stairwell.  Watching Tom disappear up the concrete stairway, Booker sighed and locking his car door, he slowly followed Hanson up to the fourth floor.  Walking down the hallway, he found Tom patiently waiting outside his apartment.  Turning the key in the lock, he watched silently as Tom entered the living room and walked straight into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Tossing his keys into the bowl on the bookcase, Booker shrugged out of his jacket and threw it over the back of the couch.  He had stopped smoking when he had found Tom but now the craving for a cigarette hit him hard.  Walking into the kitchen, he searched through the drawers until he found a forgotten packet of Marlboros.  A further search revealed his lighter and he checked it for gas.  Rolling the silver Zippo over in his hand, he rubbed his thumb over the worn inscription, _Dennis, All my love always, Ben._   Before Hanson, Ben had been the man he had thought he would grow old with.  Fate however, had other ideas and a drunk driver had cut his lover's life short just two years into their relationship.  At the time, Booker had thought he would never find another man who would capture his heart like Ben had.  But six months later, fate had again intervened when he transferred to the Jump Street program and met Hanson.  Instantly he had known that Tom was a man he could completely surrender his heart to.  Up until a few weeks ago, it had only been a dream, a fantasy that he played in his mind when he lay alone in his bed at night and his hand tugged frantically at his throbbing cock.  It was Tom’s name he had cried out when his orgasm hit and he shot his semen over his fingers.   But that was then and this was now.  Now he had Hanson in his bed every night and yet he did not feel the closeness he yearned for, there was not the same intimacy he had shared with Ben.  During their time in El Salvador, Tom had looked at him as though he was the most important person in the world.  He had looked at him with love.  Yet now, even though they shared intimate sexual experiences together, there was no connection.  Dennis knew he loved Tom as much as he had loved Ben but he was realistic enough to know that Hanson did not feel the same level of affection for him.  Tom sought comfort and reassurance from him but he had not opened his heart completely.  It was a hard realization to come to and as he continued to stare at the bedroom door that was the metaphorical barrier keeping their souls from ever coming together, Dennis felt an immense sadness.  It was now that he understood that his and Tom’s relationship had a time limit and they would never grow old together.

Taking a cigarette out of the packet, he walked over to the living room window and pulled it open.  Stepping out onto the fire escape, he sat down cross-legged and placed the cigarette between his lips.  Flicking the Zippo open, he held the wavering flame against the tip and inhaled deeply.  As the nicotine hit his system, he sighed heavily and relaxed his shoulders, leaning back against the brick wall of the building.  Drawing in another lungful of smoke, he gazed down at the busy street below and then slowly exhaled, watching as the white plume drifted away on the cool breeze.  He needed to start making some decisions; either make a clean break with Hanson before things became too complicated or carry on as they had been until Tom’s emotional and physical health were healed and he could walk away with a clear conscience.  He did not want to abandon Tom but he was starting to believe that their relationship was too unhealthy and it was not helping Tom with his recovery.  

Feeling the beginnings of a headache throbbing in his temples, he ground out his cigarette and threw it down onto the street below.  Climbing back through the window, his eyes were once again drawn to the bedroom door.  His need to check on Hanson was too strong and he walked across the room, stopping before he entered the bedroom.  This time he did knock, just a light tap before turning the knob and walking in.  Tom lay on the bed with his arms behind his head, staring blankly at the ceiling.  When Dennis lay down next to him, he wrinkled his nose.  “You’ve been smoking,” he murmured softly.  “I thought you gave it up.”

“Sorry,” Dennis apologized.  “I just had a craving.”

“I know the feeling,” Tom replied quietly before rolling onto his side and staring at Dennis intently.  “I’m not the Tom you fell in love with am I?” he asked quietly.

Booker stared back open mouthed.  It was as though Hanson had heard every thought in his head whilst he had been sitting on the fire escape.  Licking his lips nervously, he managed a small smile.  “What makes you say that?”

Tom gave a lopsided grin.  “Your face.  Whether you like it or not, I can read you like a book Dennis.  You’re a hopeless liar.”

“Oh,” Dennis replied, unsure how to respond to Tom’s revelation.  

A long silence stretched out between them before Hanson spoke again.  His eyes shone with sadness as he confessed his thoughts.  “I’m sorry I can’t be the man you want me to be.  I’ve experienced too much horror to ever be that bright eyed, optimistic fool I once was and if you want me to move out, I completely understand.”

Tom had given Dennis the opening he needed.  He could tell him that he thought it was for the best that they parted ways and in time, his heart would mend.  However, as he gazed into Tom’s dark, sorrowful eyes, he knew he could not give him up without a fight.  But there was something he needed to know, something he needed to hear before he put on his gloves and entered the ring.  Reaching out his hand, he gently cupped Tom’s gaunt face.  “Do you love me Tommy?”

When Hanson lowered his eyes, Booker thought he had received his answer and he immediately felt disheartened.  Then Tom leaned forward and kissed him tenderly.  “Yes,” he murmured.  “I _love_ you Dennis.  I may not always know how to show it, but I do love you and I want to be a part of your life.”

Tears glistened in Booker’s eyes.  “Oh God Tommy,” he muttered against Hanson’s neck.  “I love you so much.”

Tom dropped his head back, exposing more of his throat and he moaned with pleasure as Booker licked and sucked at the taut flesh.  Dennis’ hand traveled down his hard body, stopping when he came to the top of his jeans.  Using his fingers, Booker expertly unbuttoned Hanson's faded denims and carefully pulled down the zipper.  Lifting his hips, Tom allowed Dennis to pull down his jeans and boxers.  Kicking free the material, he cried out softly as Booker’s fingers trailed up the underside of his cock before pausing and rubbing his cockhead.  “Oh Jesus,” he breathed, his erection hardening under Booker’s touch.  “Oh _Dennis_.”

Sitting up, Dennis straddled Tom’s body and slowly pulled his t-shirt over his head.  Leaning forward, he traced a path of soft kisses down Tom’s naked torso.  Stopping at Hanson’s navel, he swirled his tongue around the creased indentation before raising his head slightly and smiling mischievously.  “Do you want me to keep going?” he teased softly.

Tom’s body squirmed beneath him.  “Yesss,” he hissed, his fingers entwining in Booker’s thick hair.  “Kiss it Dennis, oh _please_ kiss it.”

“Bend your knees,” Booker instructed and Tom did as he was asked.  Shifting his position, Dennis knelt between Tom’s open legs.  Lightly holding the base of Hanson’s cock, he lowered his head and pressed his lips against Tom’s slit.  

Hanson cried out in pleasure, his hips lifting off the bed and his hands grasped wildly at the covers.  He moaned loudly as the tip of Dennis’ tongue licked his slit.  “More,” he groaned.  “Oh Jesus… oh Jesus… more!”

Booker kissed and sucked at Tom’s engorged head, his own cock hardening at the sound of Tom’s soft cries.  He bent his head lower and swirled his tongue lightly around Hanson’s scrotum before licking with long sweeping strokes, as his fingers played with Tom’s erect cock.  Pursing his lips, he softly sucked on the soft skin of Tom’s sac.  Hanson made a soft mewing sound and his cock began to weep heavily.  Pausing for a moment, Dennis left Tom waiting before licking his tongue slowly back up the underside of his cock and swirling it around the head.   

“Suck me,” Tom begged, his eyes black with arousal.

Breathing deeply, Dennis took Tom completely, causing Hanson to cry out and thrust his cock deep into his mouth.  As he sucked from the root of Tom's shaft to his head, he gently tugged at his scrotum.  Tom’s hands ripped painfully at Booker’s hair as he frantically thrust his hips forward and the Spanish words began to tumble from his lips.  “Oh Dios, se siente tan bien!”  Chuparme la polla Dennis… chuparme la polla!”  _Oh God, it feels so good!  Suck my cock Dennis… suck my cock!_

Unable to contain himself any longer, Dennis ripped down the zipper of his jeans with one hand and pulled out his weeping cock.  Squeezing his hand over his erection, his mouth continued to run the length of Tom’s shaft and he moaned in pleasure.  The low vibration pushed Tom over the edge.  “AHHH!” he screamed, shooting his semen into Dennis throat.  Swallowing deeply, Dennis lifted his head and gazed deep into Tom’s eyes as his body shuddered and he ejaculated over his fingers.  Their eyes remained locked for several minutes before Dennis crawled up the bed and laid his head on Tom’s heaving chest.  He smiled when he felt Tom’s fingers lightly playing with his hair.  It was a complete role reversal and suddenly he understood why.  Tom was showing him affection beyond just sex.  

It was a small thing but for Dennis it was what he had been waiting for and all his doubts about Tom, slowly faded away.   



	25. Your Possible Pasts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: “Suck me,” Tom begged, his eyes black with arousal._
> 
> _Breathing deeply, Dennis took Tom completely, causing Hanson to cry out and thrust his cock deep into Dennis’ mouth.  As he sucked Tom from the root of his shaft to his head, he gently tugged at Hanson’s scrotum.  Tom’s hands ripped painfully at Booker’s hair as he frantically thrust his hips forward and the Spanish words began to tumble from his lips.  “Oh Dios, se siente tan bien!”  Chuparme la polla Dennis… chuparme la polla!”  Oh God, it feels so good!  Suck my cock Dennis… suck my cock!_
> 
> _Unable to contain himself any longer, Dennis ripped down the zipper of his jeans with one hand and pulled out his weeping cock.  Squeezing his hand over his erection, his mouth continued to run the length of Tom’s shaft and he moaned in pleasure.  The low vibration pushed Tom over the edge.  “AHHH!” he screamed, shooting his semen into Dennis throat.  Swallowing deeply, Dennis lifted his head and gazed deep into Tom’s eyes as his body shuddered and he ejaculated over his fingers.  Their eyes remained locked for several minutes before Dennis crawled up the bed and laid his head on Tom’s heaving chest.  He smiled when he felt Tom’s fingers lightly playing with his hair.  It was a complete role reversal and suddenly he understood why.  Tom was showing him affection beyond just sex._
> 
> _It was a small thing but for Dennis it was what he had been waiting for and all his doubts about Tom, slowly faded away._

**Your Possible Pasts**  

Early morning sunlight filtered through a chink in the bedroom curtain and a soft glow lit up Tom’s sleeping face.  Dennis gazed down at his lover’s tranquil expression, marveling at how peaceful he now looked after the disturbed night’s sleep he had suffered.  Hanson had woken constantly throughout the night, screaming in terror, whilst his body thrashed against the unseen men whose hands held him down.  Each time, Booker had gathered him into a protective embrace and murmured comforting words against his sweaty hair until once again, he fell into an exhausted sleep.  Dennis wondered if Tom’s impending therapy session was weighing on his mind and forcing the unwanted memories into his nightmares.  He hoped that once Hanson started talking about his experiences, the night terrors would fade.  Since coming back from El Salvador, Tom had not spoken to him about what he had endured and Booker was not even sure if he had received any therapy sessions in Glenfield to help him come to terms with his ordeal.  Now there was the added complication of his drug addiction and prostitution to contend with alongside his two-year nightmare in El Salvador.  Dennis was certain that Tom would be in therapy for years and even then, it was doubtful he would ever be the Thomas Hanson of old.  

There were so many things that Booker wanted to discuss with Tom, but the subjects were so delicate he was too afraid to broach them, fearing that Hanson would lose his temper and once again, disappear into the night.  Foremost on Dennis’ mind was Tom’s tendency to relapse back to speaking Spanish during sex.  It was as though Hanson associated sex with the horrors he had encountered in South America.  He and Tom had not yet taken their relationship to the next stage, but when they did, Dennis wanted Tom’s mind to be free of the rapes and prostitution so he could experience the truly magical feeling of a man making love to him.  It was the reason why Dennis had not attempted to have penetrating sex with Tom.  He did not want to see the memories of rape and degradation in Hanson’s dark eyes, he wanted only to see love and passion and until he was sure that Tom was ready, he would wait, no matter how difficult it was.

Propping himself up on his elbow, he gently brushed Tom’s hair from his face.  “Hey sleepy head,” he murmured softly.  “Time to wake up.”

Tom’s eyes slowly fluttered opened and he smiled sleepily.  “Hey,” he mumbled.  “What time is it?”

Booker glanced at the clock.  “Six, but we’ve got a busy day.  You’ve got your first therapy session at ten.”

“Oh,” Tom replied, his expression becoming anxious as he chewed nervously on his lower lip.  “I’d forgotten.”

Dennis lightly traced a finger around Tom’s exposed nipple, hoping to take his mind off the day ahead.

“Mmm,” Tom sighed, his eyes closing and the muscles in his face relaxing.  “That feels nice.”

Leaning forward, Dennis brushed his lips against Tom’s.  “Tell me what you want baby,” he murmured, his fingers trailing up and down Tom’s torso.

Hanson opened his eyes and gazed lazily at Dennis.  “Play with me,” he whispered.  “Make me come.”

Booker smiled as he reached down and released Tom’s semi erect cock from his boxers.  “Like this?” he asked, wrapping his fingers around Tom’s cock and tugging gently.

“Ah sí,” Tom moaned, his hands grasping at the bed sheet and his body writhing beneath Booker’s touch.  “Me gusta… oh me gusta.”

“Talk to me in English baby,” Dennis encouraged.  “Tell me what you want.”

“Harder,” Tom panted, his hips rising off the bed. “Oh Dennis… it feels so good… oh God… oh God… I wanna come… oh fuck I wanna _come!”_

Bending forward, Dennis nibbled on Tom’s earlobe.  “Don’t you want to make it last?” he breathed, slowing his pace and rubbing his thumb over Tom’s weeping slit.  “I like watching you squirm.”

“No, no, no,” Tom groaned, his head moving from side to side as his hips thrust forward.  “Quiero lefa!  Tirón mi polla… tirón… tirón firmemente!”  _I want to come!  Pull my cock… pull… pull harder!_

Even though Dennis did not understand the words, his fist began to pump faster over Tom’s erection.  His mouth found Tom’s throat and he nipped and sucked against the taut skin as Hanson’s body thrashed beneath him.  His own cock wept heavily, but he ignored it, preferring to concentrate on giving Tom his orgasm.  

“VOY A LEFA… VOY A _LEFA!”_   Tom screamed.  _I’M COMING…_ _I’M COMING!_    A moment later Dennis felt Tom’s warm, sticky fluid covering his fingers and his hand slowed as Tom’s body shuddered his release.  When he felt Hanson relax against the mattress, he lifted his head and kissed him tenderly on the lips.  

As their kiss deepened, Tom rolled onto his side and his hand found Dennis’ throbbing erection.  His long fingers played over Booker’s shaft and it was Booker’s turn to vocalize his desires.  Breaking the kiss, he thrust his pelvis off the bed.  “Oh Tommy… oh fuck!  Faster… please… _FASTER!”_

With a cry, Dennis pulled Tom towards of him, kissing him passionately as he thrust his trembling body against Tom’s, his semen covering their naked stomachs.  As his climax faded, he slowed the kiss, eventually pulling away so he could stare deep into Tom’s eyes.  “God I love you,” he murmured, lightly brushing Tom’s bangs from his face.

Tom smiled awkwardly and immediately dropped his gaze before rolling onto his back and staring silently up at the ceiling.  A frown creased Dennis’ brow and rolling onto his side, he propped himself back up on his elbow and gave Tom an intense look.  “What’s wrong Tommy?” he asked quietly.

Rolling over, Tom mirrored Dennis position.  “You want to fuck me don’t you?” he stated bluntly.

Dennis’ eyes widened in shock at the directness of Tom’s question.  “W-what do you mean?”

“Just now,” Tom replied softly.  “When you thrust your body against me when you came, I know you wished you were fucking me.”

“I…” Dennis started before becoming silent.  Staring back at Tom, he decided to be truthful.  “Yes I did.  I want you to see how magical it can feel when a man makes love to you.  But only when you feel comfortable and if that takes a year, or two years, I don’t care.  I love _you_ and I want you to be happy.  Everything else is irrelevant.”

Tom’s eyes filled with tears.  “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready,” he sobbed.  “I let so many men violate me and now… now I’m terrified of what I’ll feel.”

“Shh,” Dennis soothed, pulling Tom against his chest.  “We talked about this, one day at a time, remember?   Today is a significant day in your recovery because by speaking to a therapist, you are finally ready to put the past behind you.  Just don’t expect any miracles.  This is going to be a long process and you need to be patient.”

Lifting his head, Tom gazed up at Booker with troubled eyes.  “What if I can never give you what you want,” he whispered.  “Then what?”

Dennis kissed Tom’s forehead before climbing out of bed.  “Then we keep doing what we’re doing,” he replied softly.  “Your wellbeing is the most important thing to me Tom, everything else is secondary.”

Walking into the bathroom, Booker closed the door behind him and leaned heavily against it.  He had not been completely honest with Tom.  He could not imagine never knowing the wonder of making slow, passionate love whilst Tom’s body writhed beneath him.  The intimacy he had shared with Ben he wanted to share with Tom, to know his body completely, to _feel_ him, to _love_ him and most importantly, to be as one with him.

Letting out a deep sigh, he turned on the shower faucets and stepped under the warm spray of water.  As he slowly lathered up his body, he resigned himself to the fact that he may never experience the thrill of having Tom completely.

**

Sitting in the bright and airy waiting area of Doctor Terrence Landon’s rooms, Dennis flicked anxiously through a gossip magazine, staring blankly at the pictures of celebrities whose stories he could not give a rat’s ass about.  It was over an hour since Tom had walked nervously into the doctor’s office and closed the door behind him.  Dennis felt just as apprehensive and he sat for the first half hour jiggling his legs in agitation as he chewed at the skin around his thumbnail.  Eventually, he had jumped to his feet and started pacing the floor before sitting back down and picking up the magazine.  The tall, blonde receptionist had smiled at him politely, asking him if he would like a coffee or a glass of water.  Shaking his head, Dennis had crossed his legs in an attempt to stop them moving.  He longed for Tom to walk back out the door so he could gauge his disposition.  There was so much riding on Tom feeling comfortable discussing his past with Doctor Landon and if it did not go well, Dennis was unsure what the next step would be.

Another five minutes passed before the door opened and Tom emerged looking pale and teary.  Rising slowly from his chair, Dennis threw the magazine back onto the coffee table and approached the receptionist counter.  Casting a quick glance at his lover, he paid the account and handed Tom his appointment card.  Hanson stared at it for a moment before tucking it into his jeans pocket.  “Ready?” Dennis asked quietly.  Tom nodded and turning away, he walked out the door.

Booker refrained from asking any questions until they were sitting in the car.  Before he started the engine, he turned and placed a hand on Tom’s knee.  “How was it?”

“Fine,” Tom replied, his eyes staring straight ahead.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dennis asked quietly.  

“No,” Tom replied.  “I just want to go home.”

Dennis nodded and turned the key in the ignition.  “Okay, maybe later,” he replied.  Pulling out of the parking lot, he drove slowly through the busy streets.  Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tom chewing at this finger nails as he stared out of the window.  He was disappointed that Tom did not want to confide in him but he did not push.  When they arrived back at the apartment he watched silently as Tom entered the sanctuary of the bedroom and closed the door, once again placing a barrier between them.  

Sighing in frustration, Dennis walked into the kitchen and poured himself a coffee.  Sitting down at the table, he opened the letter that had arrived that day.  Pulling out his bank statement, he stared at it in horror.  He had hardly worked since finding Tom in the hospital and his bank balance was testament to that fact.  Doctor Camden had referred Tom for a disability pension, deeming him incapable of work, at least for the time being.  But the paperwork could take months to process and even then it would hardly be enough to keep them both housed and fed.  

Feeling the beginnings of a tension headache, Dennis placed both elbows on the table and hanging his head he rubbed at his temples.  Moments later, he sat up with a start when he realized Tom was standing next to him.  

“What’s wrong?” Hanson asked softly, his eyes gazing at the paperwork on the table.

“Nothing,” Dennis replied hurriedly, quickly gathering up the statement and stuffing it back into its envelope.  “Just bills.  I thought you were sleeping”

Pulling out a chair, Tom sat down next to Dennis and gave him a hard stare.  “Don’t change the subject.  Tell me what’s wrong.”

Exhaling noisily, Dennis stood up.  “It’s nothing for you to worry about Tommy,” he replied tersely.  “I can handle it.”

Walking over to his desk, he opened the drawer and threw the envelope inside before slamming it shut.  When he turned back around, he saw Tom still staring at him.  Not wanting an argument, he picked up his keys and headed towards the door.  “I’m going to get some groceries, I’ll be back in a while.”

As he turned the doorknob, his hand paused when he heard Tom’s soft voice behind him.  “Doctor Landon asked me if there was anybody in my life I trusted.  I said I trusted you, that you were the only person I had left who cared about me.  But how can I trust you Dennis when you won’t be honest with me.  You told me at the hospital that you’d never lie to me again but you’re lying to me now.  Tell me what’s wrong.”

Dennis’ hand slipped from the doorknob and taking a deep breath, he turned around and walked back over to the table.  Sitting down, he placed his palm against Tom’s cheek.  “Do you _really_ trust me?” he asked quietly, his gaze boring into Tom’s dark eyes.  

“Of course I trust you Dennis,” Tom replied softly.  “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”

Dropping his hand, Dennis sighed.  “Then why do you keep shutting me out?”

A puzzled frown creased Tom’s smooth brow.  “I haven’t shut you out.  You’re shutting me out by not telling me what was bothering you.”

Booker thought about Tom’s comment for a moment before replying.  “If I tell you what’s bothering me, will you tell me about your therapy session with Doctor Landon?”

A small smile played over Tom’s lips.  “Isn’t that blackmail?” he asked teasingly.  When Dennis did not answer his mood sobered.  “Okay, deal.”

Standing up, Dennis walked over to the desk and took out the envelope.  Sitting back down at the table, he pulled out the piece of paper and handed it to Tom.  “It’s my bank statement,” he explained quietly.  “I guess I need to get back to work or we’ll both be out on the streets.”

Tom unfolded the statement and stared at it in shock.  “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked in dismay.  “Dennis, you’ve used up all of your savings.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Dennis took the statement out of Tom’s hand and tossed it onto the table.  “It didn’t seem important at the time.  All I was worried about was you.  I worked as much as I could when I was searching for you but I wanted to keep my nights free so that kind of restricted the jobs I could take.  Anyway, it doesn’t matter.  As long as I find a case in the next week, we’ll be fine.”  Sensing that Hanson was not convinced, he pulled him into a tight embrace.  “We’ll be _fine_ ,” he murmured into Tom’s hair.  “I promise.”

Lifting his head, Tom’s mouth sought out Dennis’ and they kissed deeply for several minutes, their tongues slowly entwining as they gave comfort to each other.  Gradually pulling apart, Tom smiled nervously.  “Then I guess there’s some things I should tell you.”

Dennis’ heart hammered in his chest as he waited patiently for Tom to continue.  Several minutes passed before Hanson spoke again.  “Doctor Landon said that if I really do trust you, I should tell you what I remember about El Salvador, that if you and I are ever to have a proper sexual relationship, you need to understand what happened to me.”

Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, Dennis stared at Tom in disbelief.  “You told him about us?”

A pink flush stained Tom’s cheeks.  “Of course I told him,” he mumbled, lowering his head so his eyes hid behind his long bangs.  “I love you and I want to give you what you want.”

“Oh _Tommy_ ,” Dennis choked, pulling his lover into his arms.  “I love you too.”

Silent tears spilled from Tom’s eyes and soaked through Dennis’ shirt.  It had not been easy for him to open up to Doctor Landon about his relationship with Booker but he knew that he needed to be honest about his life otherwise the therapy sessions were pointless.  

Lifting his head, Tom wiped away his tears and smiled self-consciously.  “Are you sure you want to hear this?” he asked quietly.

Taking Hanson by the hand, Booker led him over to the couch.  When they had sat down, he reached out and gently stroked Tom hair.  “Whenever you’re ready baby,” he answered.

A sudden calm came over Tom and taking a deep breath, he began the hardest conversation of his life, all the while hoping that Dennis would not look at him differently once the conversation was over.  



	26. Dramatic Theme

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Dennis’ heart hammered in his chest as he waited patiently for Tom to continue.  Several minutes passed before Hanson spoke again.  “Doctor Landon said that if I really do trust you, I should tell you what I remember about El Salvador, that if you and I are ever to have a proper sexual relationship, you need to understand what happened to me.”_
> 
> _Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, Dennis stared at Tom in disbelief.  “You told him about us?”_
> 
> _A pink flush stained Tom’s cheeks.  “Of course I told him,” he mumbled, lowering his head so his eyes hid behind his long bangs.  “I love you and I want to give you what you want.”_
> 
> _“Oh Tommy,” Dennis choked, pulling his lover into his arms.  “I love you too.”_
> 
> _Silent tears spilled from Tom’s eyes and soaked through Dennis’ shirt.  It had not been easy for him to open up to Doctor Landon about his relationship with Booker but he knew that he needed to be honest about his life otherwise the therapy sessions were pointless._
> 
> _Lifting his head, Tom wiped away his tears and smiled self-consciously.  “Are you sure you want to hear this?” he asked quietly._
> 
> _Taking Hanson by the hand, Booker led him over to the couch.  When they had sat down, he reached out and gently stroked Tom hair.  “Whenever you’re ready baby,” he answered._
> 
> _A sudden calm came over Tom and taking a deep breath, he began the hardest conversation of his life, all the while hoping that Dennis would not look at him differently once the conversation was over._

**Dramatic Theme**  

Tom sat on the couch with his chin resting on his drawn up knees and his arms wrapped protectively around his legs.  Dennis thought he looked small and vulnerable but he resisted the urge to place a comforting hand on his lover’s knee.  He did not want to distract Tom who was slowly explaining how the government soldiers had kidnapped Penhall and himself whilst they were trying to get to the farm cooperative of El Triunfo.

“—so we were thrown in a cell together and at first we thought it was okay, you know… they’d look at our IDs and let us go but…” Tom’s voice drifted off and he hugged his legs a little tighter before continuing in a voice barely above a whisper.  “They started to torture us in separate rooms.  I could hear Doug screaming and it terrified me ‘cause you know, Doug’s a big strong guy and if they were hurting him, I knew they could hurt me even more.”

Dennis remained silent but he gave Tom an encouraging look, urging him to continue.

“I don’t know how many days we were there but they kept dragging me out of the cell and beating me and holding me underwater.  I thought I was going to drown and at that time I thought that it couldn’t possibly get any worse but then… then five of them left the compound and took me with them into the jungle.”  Tom paused again but he kept his eyes lowered, refusing to meet Booker’s gaze.  “We walked for miles, I had no shoes and my feet hurt like hell and I think I had a couple of bruised ribs ‘cause it hurt to breathe.  It was so fucking hot, I was thirsty and hungry and I had no idea what had happened to Doug.  I couldn’t understand why they had taken me.  I mean, if they wanted me dead they could have put a bullet in my head, right?  I was so fucking naïve, I had no idea what they had planned for me.  If I’d known, I probably would have let myself drown in that tub.”

“Tom—” Dennis started, but before he could tell Hanson that he did not have to talk about it anymore, Tom cut him off.  

“Don’t say anything Dennis, not yet.  Wait until I’ve finished, okay?”  Booker nodded and taking a deep breath, Tom continued.  “So after about six hours we stop.  They throw me on the ground and tie my ankles together.  The bindings around my wrists have made my hands go numb and after awhile I can’t feel my feet either.  I’m lying on the ground about fifteen feet away from where the men have started a fire.  They cook something in a can but they don’t give me anything to eat or drink.  I can see that they're drinking tequila and they start to become rowdy, laughing and singing and I think to myself that if they just pass out, maybe I can crawl over and find a knife and cut myself free.  But then they turn and look at me and their mood changes and I know I’m in trouble.”

Tears filled Dennis’ eyes but Tom did not notice as he continued to tell his story in a slow, matter-of-fact manner.  

“They stagger over and one of the men pulls me to my feet by my hair.  Another man squats down and unties the bindings around my ankles but my feet are numb and I can’t stand up on my own, so the first man holds me up, whilst the others laugh like it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever seen.  Then…” Tom’s voice becomes softer and he begins to rock his body gently back and forth whilst his arms continue to hug his knees.  “Then the man on the ground unzips my jeans and pulls them down along with my boxers and it’s then that I know what they’re going to do.  I scream for them to stop but the man throws me face down onto the ground and he kneels down and wrenches my arms up and my shoulder pops and the pain is like a red-hot poker stabbing into me and I scream again but the men just laugh.  Then I hear the sound of a zipper pulling down and the man says _“Fuck Americano”_ and he’s on top of me—”

“Stop,” Dennis whispered but Tom ignored him.

“—and I plead with him not to but it’s too late, he’s pushing his cock—”

“Tom please,” Booker begged quietly.  “I don’t want—”

“—into me and the pain is unbearable and—”

“ _STOP!”_ Dennis yelled, covering his ears with his hands and jumping up from the couch.  “I can’t do this!  I can’t sit here listening to you talking about this as though you are reading a fucking grocery list.  Fucking hell Tom, you were _raped!”_

Tom stared up at Booker, his eyes devoid of any emotion.  “Do you think I don’t know that?  I thought you wanted to know what happened to me.”

Raking his fingers through his hair, Dennis started to pace back and forth across the room, his agitation evident in every step.  “I do but I don’t want a blow by blow description.”  

“Why not?” Tom asked in a flat voice.  “Don’t you think you could love me if you knew what really happened to me, is that it?”

“Jesus Christ Tommy, of course not!” Booker cried out in frustration.

“Really?” Tom asked quietly as he slowly got to his feet and stood in front of Dennis.  “Let’s test that theory.  How would you feel about me if I told you I could have escaped dozens of times during the two years I was held captive.”

Dennis’ eyes widened in shock.  “W-what?” he stammered.  “I don’t understand.”

Tom stared back unemotionally.  “I stayed because I wanted to stay.  Not at the beginning of course but after maybe seven or eight months, they became my family.  Even though they’d still beat me and I had to wear a dog collar around my neck, I _wanted_ to stay with them and I _wanted_ to have sex with them.  Sex made me feel good, made me feel loved.  It was all I had left, I’d lost everything else.”

“No,” Dennis whispered, shaking his head in disbelief.  “I don’t believe you.”

A slow, sad smile played over Tom’s lips.  “And there it is… _the look._   I knew you’d feel differently about me when you found out.  It’s not quite how you imagined it is it Dennis?  I bet you thought poor little Tommy was cowering in a corner, terrified for the whole two years.  But it wasn’t like that.  Sure, sometimes I was scared to death, especially during a severe beating and those are the memories that plague me at night.  But the rapes stopped being rapes when I _let_ them have sex with me, when I _liked_ them having sex with me.  It’s no different to when I was on the streets.  Yeah, I did it for money so I could buy drugs but I also did it because I _liked_ it.”

“I can’t listen to this,” Dennis muttered as he grabbed up his car keys.  “I’m sorry Tom, I just…”  Unable to finish his sentence, Booker grabbed his jacket and walked out the door.

Tom felt a pain in his heart, but his expression remained impassive.  “I guess the truth hurts,” he murmured at the closed door, before turning away and walking into the bedroom.

**

The bar smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and Dennis subconsciously patted his pockets before remembering that he had given up smoking.  Picking up his glass, he drained his third scotch and nodded at the barman, indicating that he wanted another.  Picking up his drink, he swirled the ice around in the glass as his mind played over Tom’s words.  _“But the rapes stopped being rapes when I let them have sex with me, when I liked them having sex with me.”_

Hot bile rose in Booker’s throat and he quickly swallowed it down before gulping another mouthful of the single-malt that was his drink of choice.  Never could he have imagined that Tom would have accepted his situation as a captive in El Salvador and he definitely never thought that Tom could have _enjoyed_ having sex with his captors.  In his mind, Tom had always suffered at the hands of his abusers but now he knew the truth; he could have escaped if he really wanted to.  Vaguely in the back of Dennis’ mind, he remembered reading about something called _Stockholm syndrome_ , where hostages formed bonds with their captors.  Based on the Freudian theory, it suggested that bonding was the captive’s response to the trauma of becoming a victim and by being able to identify with the abuser the ego is defending itself. When the victim believes the same values as the abuser, they cease being a threat.  Booker knew very little about psychology but Tom’s behavior sounded like something straight out of a casebook.  He wondered exactly what Tom had revealed to Doctor Landon in the two short therapy sessions he had attended.  It seemed unlikely that the doctor would have suggested that Tom reveal what had happened to him if he had known the truth about his time in captivity.  Once again, Dennis felt angry at how careless the medical profession had been when treating Tom’s mental health.  If Landon had forewarned Booker about Hanson’s experiences in El Salvador, he would never have reacted so badly to Tom’s revelation.

Draining his glass, Booker stood up and exited the bar.  He walked the short distance to his car and unlocking the door, he climbed behind the wheel.  Starting the engine, he indicated and pulled out into the afternoon traffic.  As he drove through the city streets, Tom’s words echoed in his head, _“I liked them having sex with me… I liked them having sex with me… I liked them hav…”_

The screeching of car tires pulled Dennis back to reality but it was too late, a black sedan crashed into his door, spinning the car around and slamming it into a light post.  Dennis’ head smashed against the windshield and he slumped unconscious against the steering wheel, the horn blaring loudly as blood trickled down his face.

**

Standing at the window, Tom looked out at the city lights.  Dennis had been gone for six hours and he began to wonder if he intended to stay out all night so he did not have to face what was waiting for him at home.  Turning back around, he gazed at the small travel bag on the floor next to him.  He had packed all his belongings and placed a call to Gerald Cooper at the men’s shelter to see if he could get a bed for the night.  Although he had no idea where he would go after that, he knew he did not belong with Dennis.  He had tried so hard to show Booker how much he loved him and he thought they had made real progress over the last few days.  But the memory of the appalled look on Dennis’ face when he had confessed his secret convinced him that he was doing the right thing.  Booker was too kind and loving to kick him out on the street, even if he wanted to, so it was easier if he made the decision for him.  He had hoped that he would be able to at least say goodbye and thank him for everything he had done.  But as the hour drew closer to nine o’clock, Tom knew he had to leave before the shelter closed its doors for the night.

Glancing out of the window one last time, Tom picked up his bag and walked out of the door.   



	27. Absolutely Curtains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: The bar smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and Dennis subconsciously patted his pockets before remembering that he had given up smoking.  Picking up his glass, he drained his third scotch and nodded at the barman, indicating that he wanted another.  Picking up his drink, he swirled the ice around in the glass as his mind played over Tom’s words.  “But the rapes stopped being rapes when I let them have sex with me, when I liked them having sex with me.”_
> 
> _Hot bile rose in Booker’s throat and he quickly swallowed it down before gulping another mouthful of the single-malt that was his drink of choice.  Never could he have imagined that Tom would have accepted his situation as a captive in El Salvador and he definitely never thought that Tom could have enjoyed having sex with his captors.  In his mind, Tom had always suffered at the hands of his abusers but now he knew the truth; he could have escaped if he really wanted to.  Vaguely in the back of Dennis’ mind, he remembered reading about something called Stockholm syndrome, where hostages formed bonds with their captors.  Based on the Freudian theory, it suggested that bonding was the captive’s response to the trauma of becoming a victim and by being able to identify with the abuser the ego is defending itself. When the victim believes the same values as the abuser, they cease being a threat.  Booker knew very little about psychology but Tom’s behavior sounded like something straight out of a casebook.  He wondered exactly what Tom had revealed to Doctor Landon in the two short therapy sessions he had attended.  It seemed unlikely that the doctor would have suggested that Tom reveal what had happened to him if he had known the truth about his time in captivity.  Once again, Dennis felt angry at how careless the medical profession had been when treating Tom’s mental health.  If Landon had forewarned Booker about Hanson’s experiences in El Salvador, he would never have reacted so badly to Tom’s revelation._
> 
> _Draining his glass, Booker stood up and exited the bar.  He walked the short distance to his car and unlocking the door, he climbed behind the wheel.  Starting the engine, he indicated and pulled out into the afternoon traffic.  As he drove through the city streets, Tom’s words echoed in his head, “I liked them having sex with me… I liked them having sex with me… I liked them hav…”_
> 
> _The screeching of car tires pulled Dennis back to reality but it was too late, a black sedan crashed into his door, spinning the car around and slamming it into a light post.  Dennis’ head smashed against the windshield and he slumped unconscious against the steering wheel, the horn blaring loudly as blood trickled down his face._
> 
> _**_
> 
> _Standing at the window, Tom looked out at the city lights.  Dennis had been gone for six hours and he began to wonder if he intended to stay out all night so he did not have to face what was waiting for him at home.  Turning back around, Tom gazed at the small travel bag on the floor next to him.  He had packed all his belongings and placed a call to Gerald Cooper at the men’s shelter to see if he could get a bed for the night.  He had no idea where he would go after that but he knew he did not belong with Dennis.  He had tried so hard to show Booker how much he loved him and he thought they had made real progress over the last few days.  But the memory of the appalled look on Dennis’ face when he had confessed his secret convinced him that he was doing the right thing.  Booker was too kind and loving to kick him out on the street, even if he wanted to, so it was easier if he made the decision for him.  He had hoped that he would be able to at least say goodbye and thank him for everything he had done.  But as the hour drew closer to nine o’clock, Tom knew he had to leave before the shelter closed its doors for the night._
> 
> _Glancing out of the window one last time, Tom picked up his bag and walked out of the door._

**Absolutely Curtains**  

Groaning loudly, Dennis’ eyes fluttered open and immediately closed when a bright light shone into them.  He could hear distant voices but could not make out the words, they sounded garbled, as though they were being spoken underwater. Slowly, the fog in his brain lifted and he again opened his eyes, this time focusing on the face of a young man.  He tried to sit up but gentle hands pushed him back down.  “Relax Mr. Booker,” the man said in a soft voice.  “You’re in the hospital.”

“Hospital?” Booker muttered, turning his head to look at his surroundings.  He was in a curtained cubicle in what he assumed was the Emergency Department.  He was aware of soreness in his chest and his head throbbed painfully.  “What happened?”

The young man sat on the bed and stared at him intently.  “You don’t remember?” he asked.

Dennis screwed his eyes closed and tried to think.  Suddenly the words “ _I liked them having sex with me…”_ filtered into his mind and he slowly recalled the day’s events.  _Tom’s therapy session… Tom’s secret confession about his time in El Salvador… walking out and driving to the bar… drinking… getting into his car… a loud crash… spinning around… blackness._

Opening his eyes, Dennis managed a weak smile.  “I think I was in a car accident.”

“That’s right,” the doctor replied.  “You were brought in by ambulance yesterday.  Given the severity of the impact, you were very lucky.  You have bruised ribs and a minor head injury but a CT scan has not revealed any cerebral contusions or fractures.  I would like to keep you in for observation for another twenty-four to forty-eight hours, just as a precaution.”

Licking his dry lips, Dennis looked worriedly around him.  “The other car… is everyone okay?” he asked.

The doctor smiled and patted Booker’s leg.  “They’re fine, they didn’t even need to come to the hospital.”  Standing up, he drew back the curtain.  “I’ll be back to see you a little later.  Is there someone we can notify?”

The impact of his accident suddenly became clear.  Struggling to a sitting position, Dennis gasped as his bruised ribs flared painfully.  “Tom!” he panted, wrapping an arm around his ribs as sweat broke out on his forehead.  “Oh God, he’ll think I’ve abandoned him!  Please… you’ve got to call him… tell him I’m here… tell him I still love him!”

Walking back into the cubicle, the doctor gently helped Dennis to lie back down.  “You need to keep calm and rest Mr. Booker.  I’ll get the nurse to bring in a phone and you can call your friend.”

Dennis’ eyes misted over.  “He’s not my friend,” he whispered, choking back a sob.  “He’s my everything.”

Understanding filled the doctor’s eyes and he smiled kindly.  “I’m sure Tom is just as worried about you as you are about him.” 

Relaxing back against the pillow, Dennis sighed and nodded his head.  Surely Tom would not leave without saying goodbye, not now, after everything they had been through over the last few weeks.  Closing his eyes, he pictured Tom’s beautiful face and he longed for the moment when he walked through the curtain and told him that he still loved him.

**

Gerald Cooper turned to Tom and smiled.  “So what do you think?” he asked as he walked around the small room of the boarding house.  “It’s clean and quiet and the Turners are decent landlords, they’ll see you right.”

Despair filled Tom’s heart but he managed to keep it hidden.  Smiling broadly, he sat down on the bed.  “It’s nice,” he enthused.  “Thanks for helping me out Gerald, I’ll never be able to repay you.”

Sitting down next to Tom, Gerald gave him a serious look.  “My repayment will be for you to promise to stay clean and keep attending your therapy sessions.  I don’t ever want to see you back on the streets.”

Tom lowered his eyes and nodded, he owed Gerald a lot.  When he had phoned to see if there was a bed available in the shelter, Gerald had assured him that he would organize something and that he had nothing to worry about.  When Tom arrived, the refuge was full but Cooper offered him to stay at his apartment until he could arrange permanent accommodation.  Cooper’s knowledge of the system was invaluable and he managed to fast-track Tom’s pension so that he now had a regular income.  He had also spoken to Doctor Landon who had referred Tom to a Community Health Center that specialized in low cost therapy.  Lastly, he had found a boarding house that had an empty room, a place that Tom could now call home.  Hanson knew he should feel grateful but as he stared around the tiny, sparsely furnished room, he felt depressed and lonely.  This was how his life was destined to be, sitting alone in a room whilst the world outside, carried on without him.

Standing up, Gerald held out his hand.  “If you need anything Tom, you know where I am.  I hope you’ll call by the shelter now and then and have a cup of coffee or a meal.”

Shaking Cooper’s hand, Tom managed another fake smile.  “Thanks Gerald, I will.”

When the door closed behind Cooper, Tom lay back on the bed and stared at the peeling paint on the ceiling.  A single tear trickled down his cheek as he thought about Dennis.  He regretted telling him about what had really happened in El Salvador and he wondered if he had purposely sabotaged their relationship because he felt he did not deserve Dennis’ love.  He knew now that he had made a mistake entering into a relationship with Booker before he had allowed time for his mind and body to heal from the ravages of street life.  By doing so, he had lost the only friend he had and he was now truly alone.

Rolling onto his side, he pulled his knees up to his chest and closing his eyes, he allowed his imagination to take himself back to the days when life had been good and he was Tom Hanson the son, the police officer, the friend and the lover.

**

Opening the door to his apartment, Booker let out a sigh as his last spark of hope of finding Tom still there faded when he saw the apartment was empty.  Tossing his keys into the bowl on the bookcase, he closed the door.  He had left numerous communications on his answering machine over a two day period, desperately hoping that Tom would hear one of the messages and come to the hospital.  But Hanson never came and it was then that Booker started to resign himself to the fact that Tom was gone.  It had pained him to think of his lover all alone with nowhere to go but he had eventually pushed the thought from his mind.  He had to let go of his feelings for Tom and start thinking about himself.  It would take several weeks for him to recover from his accident and his financial situation was becoming dire.  He needed to get back to the office and find work, otherwise he too would be out on the street.

Walking over to his desk, he hit the play button on his machine and listened to the messages he had recorded.  He smiled bitterly as he listened to the desperation in his voice as he begged Tom to forgive him.  The last three years of his life had led to this point in time and he realized that this was now the end of the story.  Tom had gone and he did not have the mental energy to search for him again.  He knew if Hanson walked back through the door he would welcome him with open arms but he could no longer spend his time and money searching for a man who did not want to be a part of his life, no matter how much he loved him.

Reaching out, he hit the delete button and erased the messages.  As he turned to walk away, he suddenly stopped and looked back at the phone.  Picking up the receiver, he pressed the redial button.  The phone rang for several seconds before a man’s pleasant voice answered.  “Helping Hand Shelter, Gerald Cooper speaking.”

Dennis’ heart began to pound in his chest and he quickly tried to gather his thoughts.  “Hello?” the voice on the end of the phone queried.  “Is anyone there?”

Nervously wiping his hand over his mouth, Dennis managed to reply.  “Um hello, I’m not sure if you can help me but I’m trying to locate a Tom Hanson.”

There was a long pause before Gerald spoke, his voice sounding guarded.  “May I ask who’s speaking?”

Booker felt his legs start to tremble and he pulled out the chair and sat down heavily.  “My name is Dennis Booker.  Tom was living with me up until a few days ago.  I need to know if he’s okay and to let him know that I’d really like to speak to him.”

A long silence hung in the air before Cooper spoke again.  “I’m happy to give Tom a message but as you can appreciate, I can’t reveal his whereabouts.”

Leaning an elbow on the desk, Dennis rested his aching head in his hand and closed his eyes.  There was so much he wanted to say but he wanted to say it directly to Tom, not through a third party.  He did not want Tom to feel pressured into coming back.  If there was any chance of them repairing their shattered relationship it had to be because _Tom_ wanted it, not because he felt he owed it to Dennis to try again.  Deciding to keep it simple, Dennis relayed his message.  “Just tell him I’d really like to speak to him, he knows the number.”

After Cooper promised to pass on the message, Dennis hung up the phone.  Standing up, he opened the window and stepped out onto the fire escape.  The late afternoon breeze wafted through his hair, as he stood silently staring out over the city.  Tom was out there somewhere and all he could do was hope that when he received his message, he would pick up the phone and call.

**

_Three months later_

Unlocking his office door, Dennis walked in and sat down at his desk.  He was tired but happy.  It had been a long few weeks but he had finally closed his latest case and he had just come from the bank after depositing his payment.  He had been working around the clock the last few months, partly so he could start replenishing his savings and partly to keep his mind from thinking about Tom.  When he had received no word from Hanson, he threw himself back into his work, grateful for the distraction.  As the months passed, the pain in his heart slowly eased and he began to consider dating again.  It had been a long time since he had put himself _on the market_.  After Ben had died he had a few one-night stands but they left him feeling unfulfilled.  Then he had started searching for Tom and he pushed all thoughts of relationships to the back of his mind.  Now he felt ready to share his life with someone.  He still missed Tom but he knew the longer he held on to the memory, the harder it would be to move on.

Checking his watch, he decided to call it a day.  He had met a guy at the local coffee shop two days before and they had arranged to meet for dinner.  George was tall and athletic and worked as a legal clerk.  Booker had not felt the heart stopping attraction he had felt when he first saw Ben and Tom but he was physically drawn to George.  It was early days but if he did not start dating again, he would never find a partner.

Arriving back at his apartment, Dennis threw his jacket onto the couch and kicked off his boots.  As he headed towards the bathroom, he saw out of the corner of his eye that the red light of his answering machine was blinking, signaling a new message.  Walking over to his desk, he pressed the play button.  At first, there was only silence and then Tom’s hesitant voice sounded out from the speakers.  _“Hey Dennis, it’s Tom.  Um, I know it’s been awhile but I thought maybe we could get together and talk.  You can reach me at 555-3232.  Okay… well I hope you’re okay and… um… I guess I’ll wait to hear from you.”_

Dennis stared at the machine for a moment before turning away and walking into the bathroom.  



	28. Scream Thy Last Scream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Three months later_
> 
> _Unlocking his office door, Dennis walked in and sat down at his desk.  He was tired but happy.  It had been a long few weeks but he had finally closed his latest case and he had just come from the bank after depositing his payment.  He had been working around the clock the last few months, partly so he could start replenishing his savings and partly to keep his mind from thinking about Tom.  When he received no word from Hanson, he threw himself back into his work, grateful for the distraction.  As the months passed, the pain in his heart slowly eased and he began to consider dating again.  It had been a long time since he had put himself on the market.  After Ben had died he had a few one-night stands but they left him feeling unfulfilled.  Then he had started searching for Tom and he pushed all thoughts of relationships to the back of his mind.  Now he felt ready to share his life with someone.  He still missed Tom but he knew the longer he held on to the memory, the harder it would be to move on._
> 
> _Checking his watch, he decided to call it a day.  He had met a guy at the local coffee shop two days before and they had arranged to meet for dinner.  George was tall and athletic and worked as a legal clerk.  Booker had not felt the heart stopping attraction he had felt when he first saw Ben and Tom but he was physically drawn to George.  It was early days but if he did not start dating again, he would never find a partner._
> 
> _Arriving back at his apartment, Dennis threw his jacket onto the couch and kicked off his boots.  As he headed towards the bathroom, he saw out of the corner of his eye that the red light of his answering machine was blinking, signaling a new message.  Walking over to his desk, he pressed the play button.  At first, there was only silence and then Tom’s hesitant voice sounded out from the speakers.  “Hey Dennis, it’s Tom.  Um, I know it’s been awhile but I thought maybe we could get together and talk.  You can reach me at 555-3232.  Okay… well I hope you’re okay and… um… I guess I’ll wait to hear from you.”_
> 
> _Dennis stared at the machine for a moment before turning away and walking into the bathroom._

**Scream Thy Last Scream**  

Soft music played in the candle lit restaurant as Dennis sipped at his wine and half listened to George as he recounted his recent trip to Nepal.  Three weeks had passed since their meeting in the coffee shop and they were now enjoying their third date.  Dennis could feel himself falling for the man sitting in front of him.  He was intelligent, caring and funny but most of all, he was stable.  Since receiving Tom’s phone call, Booker had struggled internally with his emotions.  Although he still loved Tom and a part of him knew he always would, he did not think that it was in either of their best interests to pursue a relationship.  His over protectiveness of Tom would ultimately only hinder his friend’s ability to reintegrate back into society and Tom’s tendency to manipulate him both emotionally and sexually would only lead to more heartache.  Tom told him he loved him but Dennis was not completely convinced.  Needing someone was not the same thing as loving someone.  Not that he could lay all the blame at Hanson’s door.  He was well aware that his love for Tom bordered on being an obsession and that it was unhealthy to feel so consumed with desire and devotion that it was almost a kind of worship.  Therefore, as the days turned into weeks, Dennis made the decision not to return Tom’s call and to instead, start focusing on his own life.

Suddenly aware that George had stopped talking, Dennis looked up and met his new friend’s quizzical gaze.  “Am I boring you?” George asked with a hint of a grin.  “I’d hate to think that after only three dates we were already getting sick of each other.”

Taking George’s hand and giving his fingers a light squeeze, Dennis shook his head.  “Sorry, I drifted away for second.  I’ve got a few things on my mind.”

“Tom?” George asked quietly.

Dennis nodded.  He had opened up to George on their first date, telling him about the last three and a half years of his life and his feelings for Tom.  If he were to enter into a new relationship, he knew he needed to be honest.  He had managed to let go of the past but Tom would always be a part of it, a memory that would never fade.  He had loved too deeply to be able to erase completely the feelings he had for Tom and it was best that George knew that before they took their relationship further.  Hanson would always have a special place in Dennis’ heart, just as Ben did and nothing could change that.

“Yeah,” Booker answered truthfully.  “I can’t help worrying about him, wondering if he’s doing okay.”

Tilting his head on one side, George gazed deep into Dennis’ eyes.  “So why don’t you call him and ask?”

Dennis smiled awkwardly and rubbed a hand through his hair.  “That doesn’t seem fair to you.  We’re just starting out and I shouldn’t be worrying about an ex-lover.”

George frowned.  “Lover?  I didn’t think you two had slept together.”

A hot flush burned at Dennis’ cheeks.  “We didn’t.  The thing is, I don’t know what Tom was.  I spent over three years of my life devoted to him and in reality, we spent less than 3 months together and less than a week of that we spent being physically intimate.  He wasn’t a boyfriend, he wasn’t really a lover, he was just... Tom.”

George had trouble keeping the resentment out of his eyes.  “And yet he consumes your every thought,” he replied somewhat sulkily.  “He must really be something special.”

Acutely aware that he needed to calm the situation, Dennis leaned over the table and placing a hand behind George’s head, he pulled him forward and kissed him tenderly for several seconds before breaking apart.  “Not really,” he lied, not wanting to be untruthful to George but sensing that he had no choice if he wanted to continue the relationship.  “I guess I just need to know that he’s all right.”

Smiling seductively, George returned Dennis’ kiss.  “Then you should call him,” he murmured against Dennis’ lips.  “And once you know he’s fine, you can start concentrating on me.”

Dennis’ stomach flip-flopped and a shiver of excitement shot down his spine.  George was right, he needed to have closure with Tom, then he could focus on his new relationship and maybe, he would finally find the love he was searching for.

**

Dennis sat at his desk, staring at the phone for several minutes before he finally picked up the receiver and dialed Tom’s number.  It rang for several seconds before an out of breath male voice finally answered.  “Turners' Boarding House, this is Joel.”

Somewhat taken aback that Tom had not answered, Dennis’ stuttered down the phone.  “Um, is T-Tommy, I mean Tom H-Hanson there?”

“Just a minute,” Joel replied and Dennis heard the receiver clunk to the table as Joel’s voice yelled out, “TOMM _EEE!_   PHONE!”

Running his fingers nervously through his hair, Dennis licked his lips and tried to calm himself.  Several minutes passed before he heard Tom’s voice.  “Hello?”

Tears sprang to Booker’s eyes but he attempted to keep his voice steady.  “Hey Tommy, it’s Dennis.”

There was a long pause before Tom replied, his voice sounding strained.  “I didn’t expect to hear from you, not after all this time.”

Dennis felt his anger rising at Hanson’s response.  “You’re the one who walked out Tom.  I left you a message months ago and you never called me back so don’t fucking play the martyr with me.”

“I’m not,” Tom replied sulkily.  “And I left because you never came home and I thought you wanted me gone.”

“I was in a fucking car accident!” Dennis yelled, completely losing his temper at Tom’s self-pitying attitude.  “I was lying in the hospital waiting for you to come so don’t give me that self-indulgent bullshit.”

A long silence hung between them and for a moment, Dennis wondered if Tom would hang up on him.  But eventually Hanson spoke, his voice full of sadness.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.  Are you okay?”

Dennis let his anger wane.  “I’m fine Tommy,” he sighed.  “It was just a concussion and several bruised ribs.”

“Oh,” Tom replied quietly.  “That’s good.”

Another awkward silence stretched out and Dennis decided to take matters into his own hands and say what he needed to say.  “Why didn’t you return my call?” he asked softly.  “I left a message with some guy at a shelter.”

“I wasn’t ready,” Tom muttered.  “I needed more time.”

“Time for what Tom?” Dennis asked, his tone of voice revealing his annoyance.  “I was worried sick about you.  I don’t understand why you just didn’t let me know that you were okay, or is that too much to ask?  Sometimes you can be such a selfish prick!”

“TIME FOR ME TO BECOME THE TOM _YOU_ WANTED ME TO BE!” Tom screamed down the phone.  “I’m such a fucking disappointment to you!  I wanted to get my head together, to _try_ to be the Tom Hanson you originally fell in love with and not the fucked up nutcase I’ve become.  I thought if I came back with my mind and body healed, we’d have a better chance of making a go of it.”

A single tear trickled down Dennis’ cheek and his voice was tinged with sadness.  “It’s too late Tom, I’ve met someone else and I can’t go back, I just can’t.  It’s taken me months to get over you and I’m finally starting to feel happy again.  I’m sorry.”

“Dennis no,” Tom pleaded, his voice distraught.  “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!  Please give me another chance, I’m so much better now.  I’ve got a new therapist and a place to live.  Please Dennis, please don’t leave me again!  _PLEASE!”_

The words _“DEN-NIS!  DEN-NIS!  No me abandones!  No me abandones!”_ sprang into Dennis mind and he choked back a sob.  “I’m sorry Tommy,” he whispered and before Tom could answer, he hung up the phone.

**

Bright neon lights flashed against the night’s sky as Tom walked along the busy streets of downtown L.A.  His conversation with Dennis had sent him spiraling into depression.  Even though it had been nearly four months since he had walked out of Dennis’ apartment, he never thought that it was the end of their relationship.  When he had moved into the boarding house and started his therapy with Doctor Angela Moore, he felt as though he was finally on the right track, that in time, he would be able to give Dennis the man he wanted.  It had shocked him to learn that Dennis had moved on and found love elsewhere and he supposed it was arrogant to think that Dennis would wait forever for him to return.  Now that he knew the truth, that Dennis’ heart belonged to another, he no longer cared about his life or his recovery.  He had nothing left to live for; he had no job, no friends, no family and no Dennis.  He was once again at rock bottom and all he yearned for was to feel loved.

Turning the street corner, he stopped when he saw Thumper leaning against a light post smoking a cigarette.  He wondered if he had purposely walked into his old neighborhood in search of something to make him feel better or if he had done it subconsciously.  He stood staring at the drug dealer for several minutes before shoving his hands into his pockets and walking over.  “Hey,” he said quietly.

Looking around, Thumper’s face split into a huge grin.  “Tommy!  How the fuck are you?  I didn’t expect to see you again.”

Shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, Tom managed a half smile.  “I’m good.  I um, I’m looking to score.  Are you still the guy to see?” he asked nervously.

“That depends,” Thumper replied, licking his lips as his eyes traveled up and down Tom’s slender body.  “You got money?”

As he was about to pull out a handful of notes, Tom stopped and peered out through his long bangs.  “No, I um, I thought we could cut a deal, you know, like old times.”

Thumper threw his arm around Tom’s shoulders and gave him a tight squeeze.  “Tommy man, you’ve made my day.  Let’s go someplace quiet.”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Tom smiled meekly and followed Thumper through the crowded streets.  He was surprised when the dealer entered a shabby hotel and walked up the dilapidated staircase to the second floor.  Thumper pulled out a key and unlocked the door to a sparsely furnished room.  “Home sweet home,” he laughed, closing the door behind Hanson.  “This time Tommy, we’re gonna do it in style.”  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a baggie of cocaine and tossed it to Tom.  “Do you need a snort first or are you good to go?” he asked, kicking off his shoes and pulling his t-shirt over his head.

Tom’s body trembled as he stared down at the plastic bag in his hand.  “I’m good,” he replied quietly, shoving the cocaine into his pocket.

“So,” Thumper inquired, pulling his belt free from the loops in his jeans and holding it in his hand.  “Are you still a gasper or are you into something else now?”

“No, I still like it,” Tom muttered, staring at Thumper’s now naked body.  

The drug dealer grinned.  “I was hoping you’d say that.  Now c’mon Tommy, don’t be shy.  Get those clothes off so we can have some fun.”

Moving as though in a dream, Tom undressed and stood in front of Thumper.  “Damn,” the dealer murmured, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Tom’s naked body.  “You’re even prettier than I remembered.”

A pink blush stained Tom’s cheeks.  He could see that Thumper was already aroused and he knew there was no turning back.  Not that he wanted to.  He needed someone to make him feel special, to make him feel _loved_.  He wanted to fill the emptiness inside his heart and this was the only way he knew how.  

Climbing onto the bed, he positioned himself onto his hands and knees.  He felt Thumper’s finger enter his opening and he screwed his eyes shut as the drug dealer finger fucked him whilst masturbating.  When he was fully erect, Thumper carefully rolled a condom onto his cock and placed his belt around Tom’s neck, pulling it tight.  Pushing the head of his cock against Tom’s anus, he leaned forward.  “Do you still speak Spanish Tommy?” he teased.  

Tom lowered his head.  “Sí,” he mumbled.  “Quiero que me folles.”  _I want you to fuck me._

Thumper grinned.  “Man, I’ve no idea what you just said but you’re turning me on.”  

Tom groaned as he felt Thumper’s cock pushing inside him.  “Oh Dios,” he moaned softly as the drug dealer thrust slowly in and out of his body.  “Se siente tan bien.”  _Oh God, it feels so good._

Wrapping his hand tighter around the belt, Thumper pulled until Tom’s head jerked backwards.  “Gasp for me,” he instructed softly, his pace becoming faster.  “I wanna hear you choke.”

“Oh Dios,” Tom wheezed, his cock weeping heavily.  Lifting his right hand, he started to masturbate.  “Cojer duro… cojer duro!”  _Fuck me hard… fuck me hard!_

Feeling Thumper’s cock slamming against his prostate, Tom gasped as the belt around his throat cut off his air.  “Voy… a… lefa…“ he managed to wheeze before his orgasm hit and he slipped into unconsciousness.

Moments later, he felt Thumper’s hand slapping his cheek.  “Wake up Tommy,” the drug dealer laughed.  “You gave me one hell of a ride, I can’t wait to do it again.”

Tom rolled onto his back and stared blankly at the ceiling.  “Count on it,” he replied, his voice devoid of any emotion.  

His life had turned full circle and he had once again become _Hermoso Puto.  
_


	29. Empty Spaces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Moving as though in a dream, Tom undressed and stood in front of Thumper.  “Damn,” the dealer murmured, his eyes lighting up at the sight of Tom’s naked body.  “You’re even prettier than I remembered.”_
> 
> _A pink blush stained Tom’s cheeks.  He could see that Thumper was already aroused and he knew there was no turning back.  Not that he wanted to.  He needed someone to make him feel special, to make him feel loved.  He wanted to fill the emptiness inside his heart and this was the only way he knew how._
> 
> _He climbed onto the bed and positioned himself onto his hands and knees.  He felt Thumper’s finger enter his opening and he screwed his eyes shut as the drug dealer finger fucked him whilst masturbating.  When he was fully erect, Thumper carefully rolled a condom onto his cock and placed his belt around Tom’s neck, pulling it tight.  Pushing the head of his cock against Tom’s anus, he leaned forward.  “Do you still speak Spanish Tommy?” he teased._
> 
> _Tom lowered his head.  “Sí,” he mumbled.  “Quiero que me folles.”  I want you to fuck me._
> 
> _Thumper grinned.  “Man, I’ve no idea what you just said but you’re turning me on.”_
> 
> _Tom groaned as he felt Thumper’s cock pushing inside him.  “Oh Dios,” he moaned softly as the drug dealer thrust slowly in and out of his body.  “Se siente tan bien.”  Oh God, it feels so good._
> 
> _Wrapping his hand tighter around the belt, Thumper pulled until Tom’s head jerked backwards.  “Gasp for me,” he instructed softly, his pace becoming faster.  “I wanna hear you choke.”_
> 
> _“Oh Dios,” Tom wheezed, his cock weeping heavily.  Lifting his right hand, he started to masturbate.  “Cojer duro… cojer duro!”  Fuck me hard… fuck me hard!_
> 
> _Feeling Thumper’s cock slamming against his prostate, Tom gasped as the belt around his throat cut off his air.  “Voy… a… lefa…“ he managed to gasp before his orgasm hit and he slipped into unconsciousness._
> 
> _Moments later, he felt Thumper’s hand slapping his cheek.  “Wake up Tommy,” the drug dealer laughed.  “You gave me one hell of a ride, I can’t wait to do it again.”_
> 
> _Tom rolled onto his back and stared blankly at the ceiling.  “Count on it,” he replied, his voice devoid of any emotion._
> 
> _His life had turned full circle and he had once again become Hermoso Puto._

**Empty Spaces**  

A light misty rain fell from the night sky, soaking through Tom’s shirt and making him shiver.  He was in search of _love_ and he stood on the street corner, watching the cars drive past, each one splashing up a light spray of water from the wet tarmac.  He had been back on the game for a month and in that time he had made a substantial amount of money that he kept hidden under the floorboards in his room in the boarding house, along with the baggie of cocaine he had scored from Thumper.  The drugs were his security blanket, there if he needed them.  However, so far, he had managed to control his cravings, getting what he hungered for from the men who violently abused his body and brought him to climax.  He kept his therapy appointments with Doctor Moore and he had become adept at telling her what he thought she wanted to hear.  To the outside world, he appeared to be coping well with his rehabilitation whilst in reality, he was slowly spiraling out of control.  

A blue sedan slowed and pulled up at the curb.  The door opened and a middle-aged man leaned over the passenger seat.  “How much?” he asked.

Tom ran his fingers through his dripping hair.  “Depends,” he smiled seductively.  “What are you looking for?”

A slow wicked grin played over the man’s face.  “How do you feel about bondage and rough sex?” he asked, eyeing Tom up and down hungrily.

Shoving his trembling hands into his pockets, Tom shrugged nonchalantly.  “If you pay me enough, I’m up for anything.  Except kissing on the lips, I don’t do that.”

The man laughed.  “You’re a funny one.  Hop in and we can talk.”

Tom climbed into the car and shut the door.  The man reached over and squeezed Tom’s upper thigh, his hand lingering as he rubbed at the wet denim of Hanson’s jeans.  “You’re a pretty one aren’t you,” he breathed in a low voice.  “I want to tie you up and fuck you ‘til you scream.”

Turning to face the man, Tom smiled and held out his hand.  “That’ll be a hundred and twenty bucks.”

Narrowing his eyes, the man gave Tom a hard look.  “A little steep don’t you think?” he asked.  “I’ve never paid more than seventy.”

Opening the car door, Tom started to get out but the man quickly stopped him.  “Okay, okay, but I call the shots, agreed?”

Slamming the door closed, Tom turned back to face the man.  “Agreed,” he replied softly.  “But I have one request.”

“Being?” the man asked distrustfully.

“I want you to choke me ‘til I pass out,” Tom murmured, not quite able to meet the man’s eyes.

For a moment the man just stared at Tom and then he threw back his head a roared with laughter.  “Fuck me, I’ve picked a right little freak haven’t I?  Okay kid, whatever gets you off.”

Settling back in his seat, Tom watched the people outside scurrying to shelter from the winter rain as it turned from a light sprinkle to a torrential downpour.  The man slowly pulled from the curb and drove a short distance down the road before stopping outside a cheap hotel.  Parking the car, he waited until Tom had exited the vehicle before he got out and grabbing Hanson by the arm, he steered him into the shabby lobby.  Whilst the man paid for a room, Tom shook his wet hair and undid the top button of his shirt, immediately revealing the bruising around his throat.  The man motioned for Tom to follow him and he climbed the narrow staircase up to the fourth floor.  

Unlocking the room, the man let Tom enter first and he closed the door behind them.  Taking out his wallet, he pulled out two crisp fifty-dollar bills and a twenty.  Handing them to Tom, he watched as Hanson shoved the notes in his pocket.  “Strip,” he instructed, licking his lips in anticipation.  When Tom stood naked in front of him, he walked over and traced a finger around the angry red mark circling Tom’s throat.  “You really do like it rough, don’t you,” he muttered and without warning, he slammed his fist into Tom’s face.

Stumbling backwards, Tom crashed into the bedside cabinet and fell to the floor.  Reaching down, the man grabbed a handful of Tom’s hair and dragged him across the room.  Hanson yelled in pain and he held onto the man’s arm so that he did not pull his hair from his scalp.  Throwing Tom across the room, the man stood over him and slowly pulled his belt free from his trousers.  Covering his head with his arms, Tom felt the sting of the belt as it whipped across his naked skin.  He cried out, curling into a ball in an effort to protect his genitals.  The man thrashed frantically, the buckle tearing into Tom’s bare skin and making it bleed.  After several minutes, the man’s arm slowed and he stared down at Tom’s quivering body.  “Get up,” he snarled.  “I’ve paid good money and I haven’t finished with you yet.”

Tom staggered to his feet and stared at the man defiantly.  “You think that’s gonna break me?” he laughed.  “You’ve no idea what I’ve been through.  You’re a fucking amateur.”

The man backhanded Tom viciously across the face and he felt his lip split and blood trickle from his nose.  Swiping at the flowing fluid with the back of his hand, Tom grinned manically.  “I thought you liked it rough,” he goaded.  “Is that all you’ve got?” 

Reaching into his coat pocket, the man pulled out two pieces of rope.  “So you’re a tough guy huh?  Let’s see how tough you are when you’re tied to the bed and you can’t escape.”

Tom held out his wrists.  “Do your worst,” he murmured.  “You’re forgetting, I like it rough too.”

With a growl, the man threw Tom onto the bed and tied his wrists to the bedposts.  Hanson felt the rope biting into his flesh and he began to become aroused.  The man stared down at him is surprise.  “You really are one fucked up little freak,” he muttered in disbelief.

Tom grinned through blood stained teeth.  “You promised you’d make me scream,” he provoked.  “I’m still waiting.”

“Oh I’ll make you scream,” the man replied menacingly as he began to undress slowly.  “And when I’ve finished with you, you’ll wish you’d kept your smart mouth shut.”

“Bring it on,” Tom whispered, his eyes never leaving the man’s face.  He knew he was about to enter a world of pain but he did not care.  Pain was good, it meant he could still feel.  When he stopped feeling the pain that was when he knew he was in trouble.

**

As he slowly regained consciousness, Tom groaned in pain.  Forcing his eyes open, he rolled onto his side and stared at the empty room.  The ropes that had tethered him remained around his wrists but he was no longer bound to the bedpost.  His fingers were too numb to pick at the knots so he chewed at the rope with his teeth and after several minutes, he eventually managed to untie himself.  Rubbing at the rope burns, the feeling in his hands slowly started to return.  He struggled to a sitting position, moaning softly as pain flared through his body.  Angry red welts covered his torso and legs from the beating with the belt and dried blood caked his body.  He tenderly probed his neck with his fingers and he winced in pain as he touched the swollen, bruised flesh.   His fingers traveled over his face and he gingerly touched the swelling around his left eye before he checked over the rest of his body.  He had taken a hell of a beating but he did not appear to have any broken bones or major injuries.  In time, he would heal and he would be ready to subject himself to it all over again.

Standing up on trembling legs, he used the wall for support.  His anus throbbed from the violent fisting the man had subjected him to and he could see that he had bled heavily.  Taking small steps, he slowly stumbled over to the hand basin on the other side of the room.  Clutching the small ceramic sink, he gazed at his reflection in the mirror hanging above.  Blood covered his face and stained his teeth and he was shocked at the extent of the damage.  A wave of nausea washed over him and leaning forward, he vomited blood and bile into the basin.  Turning on the faucet, he carefully washed his face and mouth, watching in fascination as the bloody water swirled around the sink and down the drain.  When the water finally ran clear, he turned off the faucet and studied himself in the mirror.  He still looked a mess but it was an improvement.  Staggering back over to the bed, he sat down heavily as another bout of dizziness hit him.  When it had passed, he gathered up his clothing and slowly dressed himself.  

Carefully buttoning up the top button of his shirt, he pulled up the collar in an effort to hide the bruising around his throat.  Walking back to mirror, he closely studied his reflection.  It was the most severe beating he had taken since entering back into a life of prostitution and he would need to come up with a story to explain his appearance to the Turners.  Up until now, he had been able to hide the bruising on his body because his face had remained untouched.  But looking at himself in the mirror, Tom knew that questions would be asked.  His face was a mass of bruises and one eye was almost swollen shut, his lower lip was split and puffy and there was a large gash on his forehead.  

Sighing heavily, he decided that the only convincing lie would be to say a mugger had attacked him.  He doubted they would challenge his story, muggings were a common occurrence in the city.  All he could hope was that they did not take him to the police station to report it.  Not that it would really matter, he had become very skilled at lying and he was sure he could fool the police into believing his story.  After all, he had been a police officer once upon a time and he knew exactly what kind of questions they would ask.

Brushing his hair forward to hide the worst of his injuries, Tom took one last look in the mirror and exited the room.

**

Throwing back his head, Dennis cried out in pleasure as his orgasm hit hard.  He collapsed on top of George and kissed him passionately as his body shuddered out its release.  They had only recently entered into a sexual relationship and they were still getting to know each other’s likes and dislikes.  For Dennis, it was his favorite part of a new relationship, he loved exploring his partner's body and getting to know what turned them on.  George had proven to be an adventurous and enthusiastic lover, happy to bottom which suited Dennis just fine.  He had always preferred to be the dominant one when it came to sex, he enjoyed seeing his lovers squirming beneath him, their faces contorted in pleasure whilst he brought them to climax.

Breaking the kiss, Dennis smiled down at George and gently brushed his sweaty hair from his brow.  “That was amazing,” he breathed, gazing deep into his lover’s eyes.

George grinned back.  “You’re telling me,” he panted.  “If this is what life with you is like, I’m never leaving.”

Rolling onto his back, Dennis lay with his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling.  Seeing his melancholy expression, George snuggled in close and resting his chin on Dennis’ smooth chest, he gazed up at his lover’s face.  “What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.  “Is it something I said?”

Placing an arm around George, Dennis squeezed him tight and kissed him on top of the head.  “Of course not,” he replied tenderly.  “I just had a funny feeling, you know, a shiver down my spine like something’s wrong.”

Looking down, George saw that the hairs on Dennis’ arms were standing on end.  Smiling he lifted his head and pressed his lips against Dennis’.  “Maybe it’s _me_ that’s giving you shivers,” he murmured playfully.

Dennis smiled.  “Maybe,” he replied softly.  But as he gently ran his fingers through George’s dark hair, he could not help but worry.  The feeling of foreboding was too strong to ignore and his mind instantly turned to Tom.  Something was wrong and even though he had made the decision to cut Tom out of his life, he could not sit back and do nothing if his friend was in trouble.  He was a private detective after all, he could find him in a matter of hours if he really wanted to.

Closing his eyes, he made a plan.  He would not tell George, there was really no reason for him to know.  He would find Tom, reassure himself that he was okay and continue with his life.  End of story.

But there was a nagging doubt in his brain.  What if he found Tom and he was not okay, then what?  Sighing heavily, Dennis quickly pushed the thought away and tried to relax.  Tom had been on his own for five months and he had told Dennis the last time they’d spoken how much better he was doing since he was living on his own and seeing a new therapist.  Dennis was sure there was nothing to worry about but he just needed to make sure.

Rolling onto his side, he pulled George into his arms and held him close.  His life was good, the best it had been in years.  He was in love with a wonderful man who loved him in return.  Tom was his past, George was his future, and nothing could change that.  Not now, not ever.  

This was his life and he could not be happier.  



	30. If

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Throwing back his head, Dennis cried out in pleasure as his orgasm hit hard.  He collapsed on top of George and kissed him passionately as his body shuddered out its release.  They had only recently entered into a sexual relationship and they were still getting to know each other’s likes and dislikes.  For Dennis, it was his favorite part of a new relationship, he loved exploring his lover’s body and getting to know what turned them on.  George had proven to be an adventurous and enthusiastic lover, happy to bottom which suited Dennis just fine.  He had always preferred to be the dominant one when it came to sex, he s his lover squirming beneath him, their face contorted in pleasure whilst he brought them to climax._
> 
> _Breaking the kiss, Dennis smiled down at George and gently brushed his sweaty hair from his brow.  “That was amazing,” he breathed, gazing deep into his lover’s eyes._
> 
> _George grinned back.  “You’re telling me,” he panted.  “If this is what life with you is like, I’m never leaving.”_
> 
> _Rolling onto his back, Dennis lay with his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling.  Seeing his melancholy expression, George snuggled in close and resting his chin on Dennis’ smooth chest, he gazed up at his lover’s face.  “What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.  “Is it something I said?”_
> 
> _Placing an arm around George, Dennis squeezed him tight and kissed him on top of the head.  “Of course not,” he replied tenderly.  “I just had a funny feeling, you know, a shiver down my spine like something’s wrong.”_
> 
> _Looking down, George saw that the hairs on Dennis’ arms were standing on end.  Smiling he lifted his head and pressed his lips against Dennis’.  “Maybe it’s me that’s giving you shivers,” George murmured playfully._
> 
> _Dennis smiled.  “Maybe,” he replied softly.  But as he gently ran his fingers through George’s dark hair, he could not help but worry.  The feeling of foreboding was too strong to ignore and his mind instantly turned to Tom.  Something was wrong and even though he had made the decision to cut Tom out of his life, he could not sit back and do nothing if Tom was in trouble.  He was a private detective after all, he could find him in a matter of hours if he really wanted to._
> 
> _Closing his eyes, he made a plan.  He would not tell George, there was really no reason for him to know.  He would find Tom, reassure himself that he was okay and continue with his life.  End of story._
> 
> _But there was a nagging doubt in his brain.  What if he found Tom and he was not okay, then what?  Sighing heavily, Dennis quickly pushed the thought away and tried to relax.  Tom had been on his own for five months and he had told Dennis the last time they’d spoken how much better he was doing since he was living on his own and seeing a new therapist.  Dennis was sure there was nothing to worry about but he just needed to make sure._
> 
> _Rolling onto his side, he pulled George into his arms and held him close.  His life was good, the best it had been in years.  He was in love with a wonderful man who loved him in return.  Tom was his past, George was his future, and nothing could change that.  Not now, not ever._
> 
> _This was his life and he could not be happier._

**If**  

As the sun lowered in the sky, Tom’s room became dim and a cool breeze filtered through the open window, rippling the curtains behind him.  He sat cross-legged on his bed, staring at the baggie of cocaine in his hand that he had scored from Thumper five weeks ago.  Up until this point, he had managed to resist the urge to use again, but as his depression deepened and his body suffered nightly abuses from the men he sought _love_ from, he found his willpower waning.  Cocaine would give him the euphoria and self-confidence he yearned for.  Every time he went out on the streets, he went in search of what he perceived to be love.  Allowing men to abuse him sexually was what his mind now conceived to be normal, it was what he deserved and it was the only love he knew.  He longed to feel cherished, to feel wanted and yet in reality, when the sex was over, he felt nothing but a dull emptiness inside.  It was therefore a continuous cycle of searching for what seemed to Tom, to be an unattainable emotion and he concluded that not only was he unlovable he was also incapable of love.

Sighing heavily, he climbed off the bed and secreted the cocaine back in its hiding place.  As much as he craved the exhilarating feeling that the drug gave him, part of him was scared to enter into that scene again.  The memories of his withdrawal sickness were still too vivid and this time, he would not have Dennis by his side helping him through it.  The thought of Dennis brought tears to his eyes and he choked back a sob.  Covering his face in his hands, he sat on the bed and wept uncontrollably for the life he had walked away from so easily.  If only he had stayed that night, he would have got Dennis’ message from the hospital… if only he had returned Dennis’ phone call… if only… if only… if only.

Wiping his face with his hands, Tom stood up and stared out the window at the bustling night traffic below.  Friday nights were always a good night to go out, the city was teeming with horny men looking for some action after a long working week.  More importantly, maybe tonight would be his night.  Maybe tonight he would finally find love.

**

Switching off his office light, Dennis locked the door and walked down the hallway to the elevator.  He stared at the piece of paper in his hand on which he had scrawled the address of the boarding house where Tom now lived.  It had only taken him a few hours to attain the information but he had waited almost a week before deciding to act upon it.  Part of the reason for his hesitancy was George.  He felt bad that he was lying to his lover so early in their relationship.  But he was unsure as to what George’s reaction would be when he realized Dennis still thought about Tom and worried about his wellbeing.  His other reason for taking his time was that he was concerned how Tom would react when he made contact.  Therefore, after many days of mulling the idea over in his mind, he made the decision to do some undercover surveillance first.  He knew it was wrong to spy on Tom but he could think of no other option.  He needed to know one way or the other and if he saw there was nothing to be concerned about, then and only then would he let the matter drop and get on with his life.

Exiting the lift, he walked over to his car and climbed behind the wheel.  The boarding house was only five blocks away but he did not want to use his own repaired Cadillac in case Tom recognized it.  Instead, he had arranged to borrow George’s Mercedes on the pretext that his car was in the shop.  He was creating a web of lies and he felt another pang of guilt but he quickly pushed the feeling aside.  Driving out of the car park, he stopped five hundred meters down the road and parked outside of his local mechanic’s shop.  George would drop him back off there on Monday morning and he would never suspect that Dennis’ car had remained on the road the whole time.  

Having arranged for his lover to pick him up outside his office, Dennis quickly sprinted back up the road and waited outside his building.  His pretense for needing the car was that he was on a stakeout, which was true, to some extent.  George did not need to know that it was Tom whom he was staking out.  Even though he felt remorseful for lying, Booker felt justified in his actions.  If all went well, in two days time the deceit would be over and no one would be any the wiser.

He jumped slightly when he heard a car horn blare and looking around, he saw George parked down the road waving at him.  Smiling, he waved back and walked over to the car.  The timing was perfect, the sun had just started to disappear behind the horizon and by the time he reached the boarding house it would be dark and if Tom went out, he would be able to follow him undetected under the cover of darkness.

**

Leaving the boarding house, Tom turned left and headed west towards his old neighborhood.  The bruising on his face had faded but his body still bore the scars of the whipping he had received.  It had been nearly a week since he had ventured out, his body had needed that time to heal but he now felt ready to get back on the streets.  He hungered for sex, he craved it just as much as he craved the pain that came with it.  But he knew he needed to be careful, to not let his face bear the brunt of the beating he knew he would receive tonight.  It would raise too many questions, especially with his therapist who seemed suspicious when he recited his story about a mugger.  He was starting to realize that she was much smarter than he had originally given her credit for and if he were to continue to keep his nightlife a secret, he would have to be cautious about what he told her.

Stopping on his usual street corner, he leaned casually against a light post and waited.  It did not take long before a young, casually dressed man stopped and spoke to him.  “Are you the guy who likes it rough?” the man murmured, leaning in close so that passersby did not overhear him.

“Maybe,” Tom smiled teasingly.  “Depends on how much you want to pay me.”

Putting his arm around Tom’s shoulders, the man whispered in his ear.  “I’ll pay you a hundred a fifty, but I’m telling you, there will be blood and I want to hear you scream.”

Tom’s heart rate intensified and his hands started to tremble.  He knew he was entering into dangerous territory every time he agreed to rough sex and that there was always a possibility he might not make it through the night.  But he was past caring.  It was not the money that kept him coming out night after night, it was the sex and the pain that came with it.  They were the only two things that made him feel alive.  If he died at the hands of a john then so be it, he had nothing to live for anyway.

Looking into the man’s eyes, Tom nodded his head.  “Okay, but I want a hotel room with a shower so I can clean up afterwards.”

“Deal,” the man agreed.  Taking Tom by the arm, he maneuvered through the busy sidewalk and eventually stopped outside of a cheap hotel that Tom had used many times.  “Will this do?” the man asked.

“Sure,” Tom replied quietly.  “As long as I get my shower.”

Walking into the dimly lit lobby, the man paid for a room whilst Tom stood staring back out at the street, watching the busy Friday night crowds.  He saw a group of young men walk past, all dressed up for a night on the town, chatting excitedly as they headed towards their destination.  Sadness filled Hanson’s heart and he turned away.  That had been him, once upon a time when his life had been simple and carefree.  

Sighing heavily, he followed the man up the staircase and waited as he unlocked the room that would become his torture chamber.

**

Booker checked his watch and when he saw it was past midnight, he decided to call it a night.  Either he had missed Tom leaving the boarding house or Tom had stayed in for the night.  There was no point waiting around, if Tom _had_ gone out and he saw him come home, he did not want to make contact there and then.  His mission was purely surveillance, to see what Tom was doing with his life and to make sure he was okay.

Turning the key in the ignition, he drove towards George’s apartment.  He would come out again after he had some sleep and when he had spent some time with his lover.  If he did not catch sight of Tom during the second stakeout, he would let the matter drop.  It was not as though Tom was living in isolation, he lived in a house full of people and if something were wrong, surely someone there would notice.

**

Tom lay naked on the hotel bed, his wrists and ankles bound tightly to the scratched wooden bedposts.  A ball gag was in his mouth and his eyes stared in blind panic at the naked man who sat astride his thighs holding a bloody knife in his hand.  “Do you want some more?” the man murmured, pressing the blade against Tom’s chest and opening up a bloody wound.

Screaming into the gag, Tom’s body thrashed violently as the knife sliced into his skin.  He realized he was in real danger this time and he was powerless against his attacker.  He screamed again when the man carved into the tender flesh just above his pubic hair.  “NO!  STOP!  PLEASE STOP!” he shrieked, his voice muffled by the binding in his mouth.  “NO ME HAGAS DAÑO!  NO ME HAGAS DAÑO!”  _DON’T HURT ME!  DON’T HURT ME!_

“You like Spanish huh?” the man laughed.  

Tears of pain and terror coursed down Tom’s cheeks.  “No more!” he tried to cry out as snot bubbled out of his nose.  “Please!”

Reaching behind him, the man sliced the ropes that bound Tom’s ankles.  Turning back around, he held the knife to Tom’s throat, pressing down hard so that blood bubbled to the surface.  “I’m gonna bend your knees up and if you move an inch, I’m gonna slit your throat, understand?” he whispered menacingly.

Tom’s eyes grew wide and he nodded his head.  He watched as the man spread open his legs and bent up his knees.  “Now we’re gonna have some fun,” the man laughed as he lightly traced the blade down Tom’s torso and around his perineum.  “I could split you open,” the man threatened quietly, rubbing his free hand over Tom’s bloody stomach.  “Or maybe I could just fuck you ‘til you bleed.”  The man moved the knife back against Tom’s throat and pressed it against the tender skin whilst he positioned himself between Hanson’s legs.

Screwing his eyes closed in pain, Tom screamed into the gag and his body struggled to break free.  But he abruptly stopped moving when he felt the tip of the knife press deeper into his neck.  His body froze and he sobbed uncontrollably as the man pounded his cock in and out of his battered body.  He was terrified that he was destined to die this way, lying bloodied and broken on the bed in the seedy hotel room that had become his second home.  His thoughts turned to Dennis and he wanted desperately to thank him for trying to help him and to tell him that nothing that had happened was his fault, that he was to blame and that he was sorry.

It was then that he realized that he did not want to die.

The knife moved from Tom’s neck but a large hand immediately replaced it.  As the man squeezed his fingers around his throat, Tom gasped for breath.  He kept his eyes closed, not wanting the man’s face to be the last thing he saw.  As his airway closed, he struggled beneath the man’s grasp until his body went limp and he fell into blackness.  



	31. Is There Anybody Out There?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Tom lay naked on the hotel bed, his wrists and ankles bound tightly to the scratched wooden bedposts. A ball gag was in his mouth and his eyes stared in blind panic at the naked man who sat astride his thighs holding a bloody knife in his hand. “Do you want some more?” the man murmured, pressing the blade against Tom’s chest and opening up a bloody wound._
> 
> _Screaming into the gag, Tom’s body thrashed violently as the knife sliced into his skin. He realized he was in real danger this time and he was powerless against his attacker. He screamed again when the man carved into the tender flesh just above his pubic hair. “NO! STOP! PLEASE STOP!” he shrieked, his voice muffled by the binding in his mouth. “NO ME HAGAS DAÑO! NO ME HAGAS DAÑO!” DON’T HURT ME! DON’T HURT ME!_
> 
> _“You like Spanish huh?” the man laughed._
> 
> _Tears of pain and terror coursed down Tom’s cheeks. “No more!” he tried to cry out as snot bubbled out of his nose. “Please!”_
> 
> _Reaching behind him, the man sliced the ropes that bound Tom’s ankles. Turning back around, he held the knife to Tom’s throat, pressing down hard so that blood bubbled to the surface. “I’m gonna bend your knees up and if you move an inch, I’m gonna slit your throat, understand?” he whispered menacingly._
> 
> _Tom’s eyes grew wide and he nodded his head. He watched as the man spread open his legs and bent up his knees. “Now we’re gonna have some fun,” the man laughed as he lightly traced the blade down Tom’s torso and around his perineum. “I could split you open,” the man threatened quietly, rubbing his free hand over Tom’s bloody stomach. “Or maybe I could just fuck you ‘til you bleed.” The man moved the knife back against Tom’s throat and pressed it against the tender skin whilst he positioned himself between Hanson’s legs._
> 
> _Screwing his eyes closed in pain, Tom screamed into the gag and his body struggled to break free. But he abruptly stopped moving when he felt the tip of the knife press deeper into his neck. His body froze and he sobbed uncontrollably as the man pounded his cock in and out of his battered body. He was terrified that he was destined to die this way, lying bloodied and broken on the bed in the seedy hotel room that had become his second home. His thoughts turned to Dennis and he wanted desperately to thank him for trying to help him and to tell him that nothing that had happened was his fault, that he was to blame and that he was sorry. It was then that he realized that he did not want to die._
> 
> _The knife moved from Tom’s neck but a large hand immediately replaced it. As the man squeezed his fingers around his throat, Tom gasped for breath. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting the man’s face to be the last thing he saw. As his airway closed, he struggled beneath the man’s grasp until his body went limp and he fell into blackness._

**Is There Anybody Out There?**  

Dragging his damaged body across the worn carpet of the hotel room, Tom left a bloody trail in his wake.  He groaned in pain as he crawled over the chipped tiled floor of the bathroom and into the small shower cubicle.  Reaching above his head, he cried out as he turned on the faucets, gasping loudly when the warm spray of water hit his aching, bloodied body.  Sitting slumped against the wall, his head lolled forward and his breath hitched in his throat.  Never in his life had he experienced so much pain.  The man had kept him bound and gagged for eight hours, choking him to the point of passing out and then bringing him back so he could inflict more injuries to his already damaged body.  The man had not used a condom or lubrication and Tom’s anus bled heavily from the man penetrating him with both his cock and his fist.  Deep gashes crisscrossed his stomach and chest and the man had sliced open the tender flesh of his inner thighs.  But the most painful were the small shallow cuts that surrounded his perineum, the tiny wounds adding to the blood that flowed from the internal tearing he had sustained from the brutality of the sexual acts.  

Wrapping his arms around his torso, Tom drew up his legs as his body shivered under the stream of warm water.  He knew he needed medical attention but he was in too much agony to move.  Closing his eyes, he willed his body to shut down, to take him into the tranquil blackness where he would no longer feel any pain and he could quietly slip away into oblivion.

**

Sunlight filtered through the hotel room window and Tom’s eyes slowly fluttered open.  He had no memory of crawling out of the shower and into the main room before collapsing onto the floor next to the bed.  Struggling to a sitting position, he pulled a bloodied sheet off the bed and wrapped it around his trembling body.  His skin felt ice cold and he wondered how much blood he had lost.  Looking around the room, he saw that his blood had stained the carpet and the tiled floor of the bathroom.  Closing his eyes, he tried to calculate how long he had been in the room.  Figuring that it had been at least fourteen hours, he was surprised that no one had found him.  Then a frightening thought popped into his mind.  He had no idea how many nights the man had paid for, which meant he could return at any moment.

Knowing that he needed to help himself or risk dying if the man returned, Tom wrapped his hands around the bedpost and hauled himself to a standing position.  He stood for a moment, swaying unsteadily on his feet as the room spun in front of him.  Falling sideways, he collapsed onto the bed, sobbing in frustration.  He lay motionless for several minutes until his vision cleared and then he carefully slipped from the bed and onto the floor.  Moving slowly, he crawled across the stained carpet.  It seemed to take an eternity but he finally reached the door.  Using the doorknob for support, he hauled his body to a kneeling position and turning the handle, he pulled at the door.  A sob caught in his throat when he realized that it was locked.  Crumpling back onto the floor, he slumped against the door and banged his fist weakly against the wooden paneling.  “HELP ME!” he yelled, his voice rising hysterically.  “PLEASE HELP ME!”

Fatigue quickly overwhelmed him and his arm fell to his side.  “Help me,” he whispered as tears streamed down his face.  “I don’t want to die… _please_ … I don’t want to _die!”_

Hours passed and Tom drifted in and out of an exhausted sleep.  Opening his eyes, he saw that the room was now dark.  He desperately needed to go to the toilet and getting to his hands and knees he crawled across the floor.  Using the door frame as support, he hauled himself to his feet.  When the room stopped spinning, he held onto the wall and made his way to the toilet.  After relieving his bladder, he found the light switch and flicked it on.  

The florescent light hummed above his head before illuminating the room in bright light.  Hanging onto the hand basin, Tom stared at his reflection in the mirror.  His face was deathly pale and bloody wounds covered his chest.  Turning on the faucet, he cupped his trembling hand under the cool water and gulped down the refreshing liquid.  Feeling a little steadier on his feet, he carefully made his way back into the bedroom.  Sitting down on the bed, he winced in pain from the damage to his backside.  After catching his breath, he stood up and walked over to the chair where he had left his clothes.   He found his boxers and pulled them up over his bloodied legs before staggering slowly over to the window.  Leaning against the glass, he stared out at the street below.  He banged his palm against the glass but he immediately froze when he heard the sound of a key unlocking the door behind him.

Spinning around, Tom sobbed when he saw the man walk in and quietly close the door behind him.  Sinking to the floor, he started to cry.  “No,” he pleaded, lowering his head and shaking it from side to side.  “Please, I can’t take anymore.”

Striding across the room, the man squatted down and grasped a handful of Tom’s hair.  He viciously twisted Tom’s head around so he could stare into his victim’s terrified eyes.  “Oh you’ll take it you little whore,” he muttered as he pulled the ball gag out of his pocket.  

Tom yelled and tried to scramble away but he was too slow and weak and the man easily overpowered him.  After strapping on the gag, the man stood up and grabbing Tom by the arm, he dragged him kicking and screaming across the floor.   Pulling Tom to his feet, he shoved him onto the bed and after removing his boxers, he easily bound his wrists and ankles to the bedpost.  Stripping naked, the man reached into his pocket and pulled out his knife.  “Ready?” he laughed, flashing the blade in front of Tom’s face.

As the knife sliced through the flesh of his stomach, Tom’s eyes bulged in terror and he began to scream.

**

Struggling to lift his head off the bed, Tom attempted to focus on the man standing in front of him.  “Why?” he mumbled through dry, cracked lips.

The man squatted down so he could meet Tom’s disorientated gaze.  Tilting his head on one side, he smiled cruelly.  “Why not?” he replied softly, patting the palm of his hand against Tom’s bloodied cheek.  “Now stay here like a good boy and it will all be over soon and you’ll be in a better place.”

Standing up, the man cast one last look at Tom’s broken and battered body before turning away and exiting the room.

**

Tom once again regained consciousness and he groaned softly as he became aware of the excruciating pain in his body.  Lifting his head off the bloodstained mattress, he gazed around the room and sighed with relief when he saw it was empty.  Slowly shuffling his body to the edge of the bed, he fell to the floor, crying out when he hit the hard surface.  He lay for several minutes with his eyes closed, moaning softly as he waited for the pain in his body to subside.  

When he felt ready, he opened his eyes and slowly dragged himself across the floor.  Tears poured down his face as the coarse piled carpet ripped open the wounds covering his stomach but he kept going, inch by inch until he finally reached the door.  Taking a deep breath, he hauled his body to a sitting position and reaching up, he grasped the door handle.  Turning the knob, he began to sob when the door opened a crack.  Collapsing back onto the floor, he pulled back the door and crawled out into the hallway.  “Help me,” he whispered.  “Oh God, somebody help me.”

Tom had no idea how long he lay in the corridor.  His last memory was a woman screaming and then he once again slipped into unconsciousness.

**

_Monday morning_

Leaning over, Dennis kissed George goodbye and exited the Mercedes.  He waited until his lover had driven away before unlocking the door of his car and climbing in.  His two nights spent on surveillance had proved futile, Tom had not left the boarding house, at least not whilst he had been parked across the road.  Even though he had no hard evidence that Tom was in trouble, Dennis could not ignore the nagging feeling he had that something was just not right.  Over the weekend, he had made up his mind to place a call to the boarding house.  He was not sure that Tom would agree to speak to him but he had to try, if only to put his own mind at rest.  He would then confess everything to George and beg his forgiveness.  The lying and deceit had made him edgy and he wanted to start again with a clean slate.  He just hoped that George would understand his motives and not hold it against him.

Driving the short distance to his office, he got out of the car and entered the building.  He decided to take the stairs, having spent two nights sitting in his car he figured he could use the exercise.  Arriving at his floor, he walked down the corridor and unlocked his office door.  Opening the blinds, he stared down at the traffic below for several minutes before making himself a cup of coffee and sitting down at his desk.  Flipping open his diary, he found the boarding house number and picking up the receiver, he dialed the phone.  It rang for nearly a minute before a quiet female voice answered. “Hello, this is Turners’ Boarding House, Mary Turner speaking.”

“Hi,” Dennis replied pleasantly.  “My name is Dennis Booker and I’m a friend of Tom Hanson’s.  I was wondering if I could speak to him.”

There was silence at the other end of the phone and Dennis wondered if he had lost the connection.  “Hello?” he said again.  “Mrs. Turner?”

When Mary Turner spoke, her voice was barely audible.  “Oh thank the Lord,” she whispered.  “Thank you Jesus, thank you.”

A cold shiver of fear ran down Dennis’ spine.  “Mrs. Turner,” he responded hesitantly.  “Is everything okay?”

Dennis could hear the woman crying softly.  “We didn’t know how to get in touch with you,” she sobbed.  “He kept asking for Dennis but we didn’t know who you were.”

Dennis’ hand gripped the phone so tightly his knuckles turned white.  “Is Tom okay?” he whispered.

Mary started crying uncontrollably.  “H-He’s in Eastside h-hospital,” she wept.  “H-He’s been h-hurt, oh sweet Jesus, s-somebody hurt that poor p-precious boy!”

Slamming down the phone, Dennis grabbed up his car keys and sprinted from his office, not even bothering to lock the door.  Jumping into his car, he stomped his foot onto the accelerator and sped out of the car park and onto the street.  Weaving in and out of the traffic, he thumped the palm of his hand on the car horn, urging the cars in front to move out of the way.  Fifteen minutes later, he arrived at the hospital and double-parked outside the entrance.  Running from the car, he skidded into the lobby and his eyes quickly scanned the area, searching for the reception desk.  Rushing over, he slammed his palms down on top of the counter and gave the startled girl behind the desk a frantic look.  “My friend was brought in here,” he gasped, trying desperately to catch his breath.

“Name?” the young girl asked.

“Hanson, Thomas Hanson,” Booker replied hurriedly, raking his fingers through his hair.  “Please, I need to see him.  I need to see if he’s okay!”

The girl typed in Tom’s name and stared at the computer screen.  “He’s in intensive care,” she replied.  “I’m sorry but you’ll have to speak—”

Dennis did not wait to hear anymore.  He ran over to the elevator and quickly scanned the information board.  When the lift arrived, he stepped inside and pushed the button for the sixth floor.  His body trembled as he slowly traveled up to intensive care.  When the doors dinged open, he alighted into a wide, airy corridor.  Looking around him, he quickly strode over to the nurses’ station.  “I’m here to see Tom Hanson,” he announced loudly.

The blonde nurse behind the counter looked up from her paperwork.  “I’m sorry sir, but Tom is not well enough to receive visitors.  They should have told you that downstairs.”

 “You don’t understand,” Dennis replied through clenched teeth, his hands balling into fists.  “I _need_ to see him.”

“Are you family?” the nurse asked, her expression softening slightly.

Tears filled Dennis’ eyes.  “I’m his everything,” he whispered.

Walking out from behind the station, the nurse placed a hand on Dennis’ arm and gently steered him over to the plastic chairs that lined the corridor wall.  Motioning for Dennis to sit down, she took a seat next to him and smiled warmly.  “My name’s Janice,” she introduced herself.  “I’m one of the nurses that has been taking care of Tom.”

Rubbing a trembling hand over his lips, Dennis managed a small smile.  “Dennis, Dennis Booker.”

Janice’s expression turned serious.  “Dennis, you need to be aware that Tom has sustained some terrible injuries.  The police have been called and it is being treated as an attempted murder.”

Dennis’ eyes widened in shock.  “Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed.  “What the hell happened?”

“How much do you know about Tom’s life?” Janice asked softly, her eyes searching Dennis’ face.

Dennis cleared his throat.  “Everything,” he replied.  “I mean, everything up until about five months ago when we lost contact.  He’s been through some traumatic experiences over the last three and a half years.  He was kidnapped in El Salvador and held captive for two years and when he came back to the States he spent time in a psychiatric facility.  When they released him, he came and lived with me but eventually he turned to drugs and prostitution and he lived on the streets for a while.  But he beat all that, he was getting his life back together, he was getting help.”

Janice sighed and placed a gentle hand on Dennis’ shoulder.  “The police think he was prostituting.  The owner of the hotel where they found Tom said that he was a regular, always coming in with a different man.  I’m sorry Dennis, but I don’t think Tom was as well adjusted as you thought.”

“Oh my God,” Dennis cried.  “I never should have left him on his own, this is all my fault!”

Burying his face in his hands, Dennis wept uncontrollably.  Placing an arm around his shoulders, Janice attempted to comfort him.  “It’s no one’s fault Dennis, you mustn’t blame yourself.  You need to be strong for Tom, he’s going to need a lot of support and he’s really going to need his friends by his side.”

Lifting his head, Dennis stared at Janice with tear-filled eyes.  “I’m all he’s got,” he choked.  

Cupping Dennis’ face in her hands, Janice gazed at him kindly.  “Then you’re all he needs,” she replied softly.  



	32. Us and Them

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: The girl typed in Tom’s name and stared at the computer screen.  “He’s in intensive care,” she replied.  “I’m sorry but you’ll have to speak—”_
> 
> _Dennis did not wait to hear anymore.  He ran over to the elevator and quickly scanned the information board.  When the lift arrived, he stepped inside and pushed the button for the sixth floor.  His body trembled as he slowly traveled up to intensive care.  When the doors dinged open, he alighted into a wide, airy corridor.  Looking around him, he quickly strode over to the nurses’ station.  “I’m here to see Tom Hanson,” he announced loudly._
> 
> _The blonde nurse behind the counter looked up from her paperwork.  “I’m sorry sir, but Tom is not well enough to receive visitors.  They should have told you that downstairs.”_
> 
> _“You don’t understand,” Dennis replied through clenched teeth, his hands balling into fists.  “I need to see him.”_
> 
> _“Are you family?” the nurse asked, her expression softening slightly._
> 
> _Tears filled Dennis’ eyes.  “I’m his everything,” he whispered._
> 
> _Walking out from behind the station, the nurse placed a hand on Dennis’ arm and gently steered him over to the plastic chairs that lined the corridor wall.  Motioning for Dennis to sit down, she took a seat next to him and smiled warmly.  “My name’s Janice,” she introduced herself.  “I’m one of the nurses that has been taking care of Tom.”_
> 
> _Rubbing a trembling hand over his lips, Dennis managed a small smile.  “Dennis, Dennis Booker.”_
> 
> _Janice’s expression turned serious.  “Dennis, you need to be aware that Tom has sustained some terrible injuries.  The police have been called and it is being treated as an attempted murder.”_
> 
> _Dennis’ eyes widened in shock.  “Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed.  “What the hell happened?”_
> 
> _“How much do you know about Tom’s life?” Janice asked softly, her eyes searching Dennis’ face._
> 
> _Dennis cleared his throat.  “Everything,” he replied.  “I mean, everything up until about five months ago when we lost contact.  He’s been through some traumatic experiences over the last three years.  He was kidnapped in El Salvador and held captive for two years and when he came back to the States he spent time in a psychiatric facility.  When they released him, he came and lived with me but eventually he turned to drugs and prostitution and he lived on the streets for a while.  But he beat all that, he was getting his life back together, he was getting help.”_
> 
> _Janice sighed and placed a gentle hand on Dennis’ shoulder.  “The police think he was prostituting.  The owner of the hotel where they found Tom said that he was a regular, always coming in with a different man.  I’m sorry Dennis, but I don’t think Tom was as well adjusted as you thought.”_
> 
> _“Oh my God,” Dennis cried.  “I never should have left him on his own, this is all my fault!”_
> 
> _Burying his face in his hands, Dennis wept uncontrollably.  Placing an arm around his shoulder, Janice attempted to comfort him.  “It’s no one’s fault Dennis, you mustn’t blame yourself.  You need to be strong for Tom, he’s going to need a lot of support and he’s really going to need his friends by his side.”_
> 
> _Lifting his head, Dennis stared at Janice with tear-filled eyes.  “I’m all he’s got,” he choked._
> 
> _Cupping Dennis’ face in her hands, Janice gazed at him kindly.  “Then you’re all he needs,” she replied softly._

**Us and Them**  

Awakening from a light doze, Dennis ran his fingers through his hair and gazed down at Tom’s damaged face.  He had been sitting at Hanson’s bedside for ten hours and it was now eight o’clock in the evening.  Janice had explained that they were keeping Tom sedated so that his body had a chance to heal.  Many of the deep cuts covering Tom’s body had required stitches and he had lost so much blood he had needed a transfusion.  He had facial and body contusions, which the doctor surmised had been the result of blunt force trauma and there was evidence of anal tearing, indicating rough sexual intercourse.  X-rays had also revealed several fractured ribs and a broken wrist.  He was also dehydrated which fitted in with the account from the elderly hotel manager that he had been held captive for several days. 

Reaching out, Dennis gently stroked Tom’s hair.  He thought back to what the police had told him when they had returned to the hospital.  According to the manager, whose name was Cecil Edwards, Tom had arrived at the hotel with a man on the Friday night at approximately seven o’clock.  Edwards knew Tom and he was somewhat surprised when the man paid for two nights.  He knew Hanson was a prostitute, streetwalkers often used the hotel, as it was cheap and clean but the johns usually paid for the rooms by the hour not by the night.  When asked by the police officer in charge of the case why the cleaners had not entered the room during the time Tom was there, the manager explained that the man had requested a discounted rate if he did not have the room cleaned during his stay.  According to Cecil, it was not an unusual request and he had not thought much about it.   The man had left for several hours on the Saturday morning but had returned before midday dressed in different clothing.  The first Edwards knew that there was anything wrong was on the Sunday morning when his resident cleaner, Mrs. Walker had run down the stairs screaming that there was a dead body on the fourth floor.  He had immediately called an ambulance and the police.  When he had arrived upstairs, he was shocked at the sight of Tom lying naked and bloody in the hallway.  He had covered Hanson with a sheet and entered the room where he stated that he almost passed out when he saw the amount of blood that stained the floors and the bed.  Searching through Tom’s clothes, he had found the address for the boarding house, which he had given to the police when they arrived.  The officer had phoned the Turners and the two elderly proprietors had rushed to the hospital to be by Tom’s side.  They had sat with him until the doctor had administered the sedative and all the while, they wondered who the mystery Dennis was that Tom kept calling for.

Tears of sadness and exhaustion filled Dennis’ eyes but he quickly wiped them away when he heard footsteps behind him.  Turning his head, he saw Janice approach.  “It’s time for you to leave Dennis,” she instructed softly.  “You can come back again in the morning.”

“But what if he wakes up?” Dennis asked worriedly.  “I don’t want him to be alone.”

Laying a gentle hand on Booker’s shoulder, Janice smiled reassuringly.  “He won’t wake up, we’re keeping him sedated remember? And I promise you, when it’s time for Tom to awaken, I’ll make sure you’re here for him.”

Dennis smiled self-consciously.  “Sorry,” he apologized quietly.  “I know you’re taking good care of him.  It’s just… he’s been through so much and—”

“Don’t apologize,” Janice replied, taking Booker’s arm and escorting him out of the Intensive Care Unit.  “He’s very lucky to have such a devoted friend.  Now go home and get some rest and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Nodding his head wearily, Dennis walked slowly down the quiet corridor and waited for the elevator.  Arriving at the ground floor, he walked out of the hospital and stopped.  His car was no longer where he had parked it and he swore loudly.  Then he suddenly remembered that he had double-parked and in all likelihood, the City had towed and impounded his Cadillac.  Sighing heavily, he headed towards the nearest subway.  

An hour later, he unlocked his apartment door and switched on the light.  He felt worn out and he longed for a long hot shower to ease his aching muscles.  Shrugging out of his leather jacket, he tossed it over the back of the couch.  Pulling his t-shirt over his head, he kicked off his boots and walked over to his desk.  The red light on his answering machine was blinking madly and he saw he had four messages.  Frowning slightly, he hit the play button.  George’s voice sounded through the speakers, his first message playful and flirty. _“Hey baby, it’s George.  Where are you?  I’m already at the restaurant and I’ve ordered a bottle of wine so you’d better hurry up and get here or I may get drunk and let you have your wicked way with me.”_

But as the messages continued, George’s voice sounded strained.  _“Hey, it’s me, I’m starting to get worried.  Please ring the restaurant so I can speak to you…  Me again, where the hell are you..?  Okay, so it’s pretty obvious you’ve forgotten about our date, so I guess I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”_

Dennis slammed his fist down on the desk.  “Damn it!” he yelled.  In his rush to get to Tom, he had completely forgotten about his date with George.  Picking up the phone, he started to dial his lover’s number but he stopped and replaced the receiver.  A slow realization dawned and he suddenly knew he had been deluding himself.  Tom was the one he had an all-consuming love for, not George.  He had feelings for George but in reality, he had been nothing more than a distraction, a way to move on and try to put Tom out of his mind.

Sitting down, he rested his head in his hands.  He needed to break it off with George but he could not do it over the phone, he owed his lover a face-to-face explanation.  Standing up, he struggled back into his t-shirt and pulled on his boots.  Grabbing his jacket, he switched off the light and walked out the door.

**

Standing outside of George’s apartment building, Dennis wiped the palms of his hands nervously on his jeans.  Clearing his throat, he pressed the intercom button.  He waited a minute before pressing it again and after another minute, he heard George’s sleepy voice.  “Hello?”

Leaning forward, Dennis spoke, his voice sounding shaky.  “Hey George, it’s Dennis.  Can I come up?  We really need to talk.”

George hesitated before answering.  “Okay,” he replied quietly and he buzzed open the door.

Dennis entered the building and climbed up the stairs to the second floor.  As he walked down the hallway, he saw George standing in his doorway, dressed in a robe.  When he reached the apartment, he stopped and gazed at George uncomfortably.  “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

Standing back, George motioned for Dennis to enter.  Closing the door, he gave Booker a hard look.  “You don’t look injured so I’m assuming you stood me up on purpose,” he said sullenly.  “Care to explain?”

Stepping forward, Dennis took George’s hand in his.  “I’m really sorry George, but you’re not going to like what I have to say.”

George’s palm slapped painfully against Dennis’ cheek.  “YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH!” he yelled.  “You’ve been to see _him!”_

Lowering his eyes, Booker stared at the floor.  “Yes I have, but George, you don’t understand, Tom was—”

“DON’T YOU SAY HIS NAME!” George screamed.  “He’s nothing but a fucking _WHORE_ and yet you—”

Dennis threw back his arm and punched George in the face, knocking him to the ground.  When he saw his lover’s frightened eyes staring up at him he immediately felt remorseful.  Reaching down, he offered out his hand.  “Oh Jesus George, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to, it’s just—”

Ignoring Dennis’ hand, George scrambled to his feet.  “Get the fuck out of my home,” he said through gritted teeth.  “I never want to see you again.”

Turning away, Dennis walked out of the door.  “I really am sorry,” he muttered under his breath.

“Go to hell!” George shouted, slamming the door closed.  Dennis felt tears stinging his eyes, it had never been his intention to hurt George but he had managed to do so, both physically and emotionally.  But amongst all his inner turmoil, he also felt a huge sense of relief.  He was now free to take care of the man who had stolen his heart the first day they had met and this time, he would do it right.

**

Rising out of the plastic chair, Dennis braced his hands against his lower back and stretched out his aching muscles.  He had spent twelve hours a day for the last five days sitting at Tom’s bedside, too fearful to leave in case the sedation wore off.  Glancing at his wristwatch, he saw that it was nearly lunchtime and as if on cue, his stomach growled.  Walking out into the corridor, he saw Tom’s doctor heading towards him.  “Hello Dennis,” Doctor Heath greeted.  “I was hoping I’d find you here.”

“Where else would I be?” Dennis joked.  He had spent so many hours at the ICU that he now knew most of the staff by name.

Laughing pleasantly, Timothy Heath laid a hand on Dennis’ shoulder.  “You’re right, I knew I’d find you here.”  Motioning towards a chair, the doctor sat down.  “I wanted to talk to you about Tom’s treatment.  I think it’s time we brought him out of sedation.”

Booker felt his pulse rate quicken and he chewed nervously at the skin around his thumbnail.  “What can I expect?” he asked quietly.  “I’ve done this before but Tom wasn’t so badly injured last time.  Do you think he’ll ever recover from this?”

Doctor Heath gave Dennis a questioning look.  “Are you asking if he’ll recover physically or emotionally?” he inquired directly.

“Both,” Dennis replied quietly.  “I need to know how best to help him.”

Timothy thought about his answer before replying.  “Physically, he’ll recover.  He’ll be in pain when he wakes up but over time, that will pass.  There’ll be scarring but none of the injuries should cause any permanent disability.  Mentally… well, that’s another matter.  From the information you’ve given me, Tom has suffered more mental torment than most men would suffer in ten lifetimes.  He is going to need intensive therapy to help him come to terms with everything that has happened to him.  But be prepared, he has gone down that road before with little success.  He will quite likely refuse to try again.  However, I would suggest you encourage him as best you can.  His best hope of recovery is with professional help and we are here to give him whatever he needs.  Furthermore, I would like to keep Tom under my care, at least for the time being.  I think it is important that he learns to trust the people who are taking care of him and that won’t happen if he keeps seeing different doctors.”

Dennis nodded.  He knew the doctor was right and he felt relief that Tom finally had a physician who seemed to understand the obstacles he would face and how he could overcome them.  That the doctor had also offered to keep Tom under his care was music to Booker’s ears.  He trusted Timothy Heath and he knew he would do the very best by his friend.

Standing up, the doctor reached into his pocket and pulling out a business card, he handed it to Dennis.  “If you have any questions, give me a call.  I’ve instructed the nurses not to continue with the sedation.  Tom will eventually wake up on his own and when he has done so, I will of course be back to examine him.  As he has been on a low dose sedative, it is doubtful that he will suffer any side effects such as amnesia.”

Staring at the card, Dennis nodded.  Janice had explained the risk of side effects to him and a small part of Dennis hoped that Tom would _not_ remember what had happened to him, but he quickly pushed the thought aside.  He knew that Tom needed to face his demons head on or risk slipping back into a life of drugs and prostitution.  

Dennis smiled a genuine smile for the first time in days.  “I don’t know how to thank you,” he murmured to Doctor Heath.  “I just wish you’d been there when Tom first needed help.”

“I’m here now,” the doctor smiled.  “Don’t worry Dennis, between the two of us, we’ll help Tom through this.”

“Yeah,” Dennis replied softly.  “I really hope so.”

**

Sitting next to Tom’s bedside, Dennis leaned forward and rested his elbows on the bed.  Taking Tom’s hand in both of his, he silently willed his friend to wake up.  It had been three hours since Janice had removed the IV but Tom had yet to show any signs of life.  Janice had explained that each patient was different and it was impossible to say when Tom would regain consciousness.  Dennis hoped that it would not be during the night when he was not there.  More than anything, he wanted to be by Tom’s side when he woke up so he could reassure him that he was there for him and always would be.

Lifting Tom’s hand, Dennis kissed the fingers tenderly.  “C’mon baby,” he murmured softly, staring into Tom’s sleeping face.  “Wake up.”

Tom’s fingers twitched and his eyelids started to flutter.  Dennis reached out and began to stroke Tom’s hair.  “That’s it baby,” he encouraged.  “Wake up.  C’mon Tommy, please wake up.”

After several minutes, Tom’s eyes slowly opened and he stared around the room, his eyes wide with panic.  “Don’t hurt me,” he croaked weakly.  “Please don’t hurt me.”

Tears spilled from Dennis’ eyes and he squeezed Tom’s fingers gently.  “Tommy, baby, it’s me, it’s Dennis.  You’re safe now baby, you’re in the hospital.”

Tom’s eyes darted around the room and he visibly relaxed when Janice walked over and smiled down at him.  “Welcome back Tom,” she said in a soft voice.  “My name’s Janice and I’m your nurse.  I’ll give you a few minutes with Dennis and then I need to check your obs.”

When they were once again alone, Tom gazed into Booker’s face and tears slid down his bruised cheeks.  “I never… thought I’d… see you… again,” he whispered in a hoarse, breathless voice.  “Oh God… Dennis… I was so… fucking… stupid.”

“Shh,” Dennis soothed, gently wiping at Tom’s tears with his thumb. “You need to concentrate on getting better and we’ll deal with everything else later, okay.”

Nodding his head weakly, Tom closed his eyes and fell asleep.  Sighing quietly, Dennis continued to stroke at Tom’s matted hair as he gazed down at his battered body.  Now that Tom was awake, the challenges were about to begin and Dennis hoped that his time, Tom would find the road to recovery.  



	33. Round and Around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Sitting next to Tom’s bedside, Dennis leaned forward and rested his elbows on the bed.  Taking Tom’s hand in both of his, he silently willed his friend to wake up.  It had been three hours since Janice had removed the drip but Tom had yet to show any signs of life.  Janice had explained that each patient was different and it was impossible to say when Tom would regain consciousness.  Dennis hoped that it would not be during the night when he was not there.  More than anything, he wanted to be by Tom’s side when he woke up so he could reassure him that he was there for him and always would be._
> 
> _Lifting Tom’s hand, Dennis kissed the fingers tenderly.  “C’mon baby,” he murmured softly, staring into Tom’s sleeping face.  “Wake up.”_
> 
> _Tom’s fingers twitched and his eyelids started to flutter.  Dennis reached out and began to stroke Tom’s hair.  “That’s it baby,” he encouraged.  “Wake up.  C’mon Tommy, please wake up.”_
> 
> _After several minutes, Tom’s eyes slowly opened and he stared around the room, his eyes wide with panic.  “Don’t hurt me,” he croaked weakly.  “Please don’t hurt me.”_
> 
> _Tears spilled from Dennis’ eyes and he squeezed Tom’s fingers gently.  “Tommy, baby, it’s me, it’s Dennis.  You’re safe now baby, you’re in the hospital.”_
> 
> _Tom’s eyes darted around the room and he visibly relaxed when Janice walked over and smiled down at him.  “Welcome back Tom,” she said in a soft voice.  “My name’s Janice and I’m your nurse.  I’ll give you a few minutes with Dennis and then I need to check your obs.”_
> 
> _When they were once again alone, Tom gazed into Booker’s face and tears slid down his bruised cheeks.  “I never… thought I’d… see you… again,” he whispered in a hoarse, breathless voice.  “Oh God… Dennis… I was so… fucking… stupid.”_
> 
> _“Shh,” Dennis soothed, gently wiping at Tom’s tears with his thumb. “You need to concentrate on getting better and we’ll deal with everything else later, okay.”_
> 
> _Nodding his head weakly, Tom closed his eyes and fell asleep.  Sighing quietly, Dennis continued to stroke at Tom’s matted hair as he gazed down at his battered body.  Now that Tom was awake, the challenges were about to begin and Dennis hoped that his time, Tom would find the road to recovery._

**Round and Around**  

Dennis remained next to Tom watching him sleep until Janice gently told him to leave.  She suggested that he not come in until the following afternoon, as Doctor Heath had scheduled Tom for more scans and tests in the morning.  Dennis reluctantly agreed after making Janice promise to tell Tom that he would be back as he did not want Tom to think he had abandoned him again.

Arriving home, he sat down at the table and started to make a list.  Firstly, he needed to get his car out of the impound yard.  He also needed to go into his office and finish the paperwork on his last case so he could collect the money his client owed him.  This time he knew he needed to be careful and not neglect his work as he had done previously.  It would not help Tom if he were in financial difficulties.  He wanted to be able to provide everything that Tom needed to aid his recovery and the only way he could do that was if he had money in the bank.

Lastly, he needed to gather up all the items George had left at his apartment.  It was not something he was looking forward to doing.  He did not have the energy or the inclination to get into another argument with his ex-lover.  Even though he knew George had every right to feel angry and used, he was disappointed that they had not parted on good terms.  He had cared deeply for George and even though he now realized it was not love, it still hurt that their relationship had ended the way it had.

Standing up, he decided to gather up Georges belongings so he could drop them off as soon as he got his car back.  Wandering from room to room, he picked up CDs and clothing and packed them all neatly into a box.  Walking into the bathroom, he stared at George’s robe hanging from a hook on the back of the door and he sighed heavily.  In only a short space of time, George had become an integral part of his life and now, just as quickly, it was over.  

Folding up the robe, he tossed it into the cardboard box and closed the lid.  He knew there was no point crying over what ifs.  In another time, in another place, he and George probably would have made a go of it.  But it was not to be.  Tom was the only one he wanted to be with and even if it took him years, he was happy to wait.

As he carried the box back into the living room, the phone rang, making him jump.  Tossing the box onto the table, he hurried over to his desk and snatched up the receiver.  “Booker.”

At first there was only silence and then the sound of George’s voice.  “Hey Dennis, it’s me.”

“Hey,” Dennis replied quietly.  “I didn’t expect to hear from you again.”

A long pause hung between them until George finally spoke, his voice sounding strained.  “I just wanted to arrange a time so I could pick up my things,” he muttered.

“I’ve just finished packing everything,” Dennis answered.  “So if you want—”

“Geez Dennis, that didn’t take you long,” George snapped back.  “Couldn’t wait to make room for your precious Tommy could you.”

Dennis sighed and rubbed at his forehead.  “George don’t,” he pleaded quietly.  “I really am sorry but—”

“But nothing,” George replied tersely.  “You know what Dennis?  I don’t give a fuck anymore.  If you want to spend your life with a manipulative, lying whore, that’s up to you.”

Slamming his hand down on the desk, Dennis screamed into the phone.  “DON’T YOU SAY THAT!  DON’T YOU FUCKING SAY THAT ABOUT TOMMY!”

“Why not?” George replied quietly.  “It’s true Dennis and you’re too blinded by love to see it.  Trust me, he’ll take advantage of your kindness and in the end, you’ll find yourself alone and heartbroken.”

Running a trembling hand through his hair, Dennis calmed his voice.  “You’re wrong,” he muttered.  “Tom would never do that.”

George let out a loud, shrill laugh.  “Oh for fuck’s sake Dennis, are you listening to yourself?  That’s _all_ Tom has done since he came out of the psychiatric hospital and you’re completely oblivious to it.  But one day you’ll wake up and realize that you wasted your life loving a man who could never love you back.”

Dennis’ grip tightened on the phone.  “You have no idea what Tom and I have,” he replied through clenched teeth.  “I’m sorry I hurt you George but I won’t sit here and listen to you insulting Tom.”

“Fine,” George answered back furiously.  “But don’t say I didn’t warn you and oh, you know what? You can throw out my things because I don’t want them back.  I want to forget I ever had a relationship with you.” 

The sound of George slamming the phone down on its cradle echoed in Dennis’ ear and he slowly replaced the receiver.  George’s words had struck a chord and he felt sick.  Had his ex lover unleashed a hateful tirade because he was jealous of his love for Tom, or did George really believe Hanson was controlling and about to break his heart again?  It was the proverbial sixty-four thousand dollar question.   

Shaking his head, Dennis stood up and walked into the bedroom.  George was playing with him by placing doubts in his mind.  Even though Hanson had trouble expressing his feelings, Dennis was sure the love he felt for Tom was reciprocated.  He just needed to give his friend time to recover and then they would talk about their future.

Stripping off his clothes, Dennis crawled under the covers and closed his eyes.  But the nagging doubt in his mind would not go away and he found himself thinking about George’s words and he began to wonder if he had made a huge mistake.

**

Having paid a substantial fine, Booker retrieved his Cadillac out of the impound lot and drove to his office.  He had hardly slept the night before and he felt irritable and depressed.  Unlocking his office door, he switched on the light and walked over to his desk.  Pressing the play button on his answering machine, he pulled out his chair and sat down.  The first message was from his client, Mrs. Willard, thanking him for a job well done and promising prompt payment as soon as the paperwork came through.  The second message was from the hospital and Dennis listened intently.  _“Hi Dennis, it’s Janice at the hospital, I must have missed you at home so I thought I’d try you at work.  Tom’s in a pretty bad way, he didn’t sleep well and he’s very emotional so I thought maybe you could come in earlier than you’d planned.  Anyway, if you can you can, if not I’ll see you later this afternoon.”_

When the message finished, Dennis sat staring at the machine.  Once again, George’s words played through his mind, _Trust me, he’ll take advantage of your kindness and in the end, you’ll find yourself alone and heartbroken._   Erasing the messages, Dennis sat for several minutes before he scrolled a sheet of paper into the typewriter and began to type out his report to Mrs. Willard.  He needed to be strong and not go running every time Tom called on him.  If they were to enter into a relationship, Hanson needed to realize that Dennis was not at his disposal and that it was unfair of him to think that he should be.  He had a job, he had responsibilities and now that Tom was out of imminent danger, he could not spend day after day sitting at the hospital.  It was time for Tom to take responsibility for his own health and not rely on him to be there to pick up the pieces.  

Having given himself the mental pep talk, Dennis felt a little better.  He wanted to prove to George that Tom could not manipulate him and that he had a mind of his own.  He would go to the hospital when he had finished at the office and Tom would just have to wait.

**

Arriving at the ICU, Dennis found himself quickly taken aside by Janice before he had a chance to see Tom.  “I was hoping you’d get here sooner,” she whispered, taking Dennis by the arm and walking him back out into the corridor.  “He’s in a pretty bad way.”

Dennis sighed impatiently.  “I’m sorry but I had to work.  So what’s the problem?”

Janice gave Dennis a questioning look.  “Is everything okay?  You seem a little annoyed.”

“It’s nothing,” Dennis replied tersely.  “Just tell me what’s wrong with Tom and I’ll go and sort it out.”

Placing her hands on her hips, Janice gave Booker a hard stare.  “If you’ve got a problem Dennis, I think you should turn around and go back home.  Tom’s my patient and I’ll be damned if I’ll let you go in there and upset him.”

Somewhat surprised at Janice’s hard stance, Dennis blushed and lowered his head.  “Sorry, I guess I’m feeling a little on edge.  It’s just…” his voice trailed off and he stared at the ground.

Taking Dennis’ hand in hers, Janice led him into her office and closed the door.  Motioning for him to take a seat, she sat down at her desk.  “Tell me what’s troubling you,” she encouraged softly.

Dennis chewed at his lower lip for a moment before deciding to be truthful.  “I’ve been in love with Tom for years and after I found him in El Salvador, I thought maybe we would get together.  The signs were there but I think he was just using me for a place to stay.  Then he came home one night, high on cocaine and he came onto me, but not in a loving way, he was mocking me.  We had a fight, he left and he ended up addicted to heroin and prostituting himself on the streets.  He overdosed and I found him again and took him back into my home and this time, well… this time we started something and even though he was cold one minute and loving the next, I thought we were really making progress.  Then he told me about his time in El Salvador and I admit it, I over reacted and he left again.  I left a message for him at some halfway house but he never returned my call.  Then months later, he calls me, tells me he’s doing better and it was as if I was to drop everything and come running.  But I’d met someone, so I didn’t ring back and then the next thing I know, Tom’s in here and I find out he was back on the streets prostituting again.  Now I’ve broken up with my boyfriend because he knows I’m still in love with Tom and I can’t help feeling that I’m somehow being manipulated.”

Janice stared back at Dennis with sympathetic eyes.  “Well, I can certainly see your concerns,” she replied softly.  “But in Tom’s defense, I think he is extremely troubled and has not received the best psychological care.  Maybe if he had, things would be different.”

Running his hand through his hair, Dennis stood up and began to pace the room.  “I know that Janice, but I don’t know what to do.  I love him so much but I can’t let him keep using me.  I put my life on hold for over three years and if he’s going to leave this hospital and walk back out of my life again then I think it would be best if I left first.”

“That’s a decision only you can make,” Janice replied sadly.  “But if you’re going to leave, do it now.  Don’t build his hopes up by lying to him and letting him think that you’re his friend.”

“I am his friend,” Dennis whispered as tears filled his eyes.  “That’s why I’m terrified of hurting him.  But I don’t think I can take him walking out on me again.”

Standing up, Janice walked over and put her arm around Dennis.  “Did you ever think that maybe he’s just as terrified that you’ll walk out on him?” she asked quietly.

Once again the words _DEN-NIS!  DEN-NIS!  No me abandones!  No me abandones!_ echoed in Dennis’ mind.  He _had_ abandoned Tom and it was little wonder that he had trust issues, even after everything they had been through together.  Wiping away his tears, Dennis managed a small smile.  “Okay, you’ve convinced me,” he replied.  “I love Tom too much to walk away.  But this time I’m going to do things differently.”

Janice returned the smile.  “I’m pleased to hear it.  Now, how about we go and see Tom.”

Dennis nodded and he followed Janice into the ICU.  When he approached Tom, he could see that he had been crying.  Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took his friend’s hand in his.  “Hey Tommy,” he murmured softly.  “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Turning his tearstained face towards Dennis, Tom’s lower lip trembled.  “H-Have you s-seen it?” he sobbed.  “H-Have you s-seen what h-he did to m-me?”

Laying a hand on Tom’s head, Booker gently stroked his hair.  “No,” he replied quietly, his eyes filled with anguish.  “But Tommy it doesn’t—”

“LOOK!” Tom screamed, pulling down the sheet that covered his body.  “LOOK WHAT HE DID TO ME!”

Dennis felt vomit rise in his throat as he stared down at the deep gashes that crisscrossed Tom’s chest, stomach and thighs.  Many had been sutured and the wounds looked red and lumpy.  He tried to keep the revulsion out of his eyes but the sight was too shocking.  “Oh Jesus,” he whispered, covering his mouth with his hand.  “Oh Tommy…”

“I’M A FUCKING FREAK!” Tom screamed.  “WHO’S GOING TO WANT ME NOW?” His eyes grew large and he gazed at Dennis imploringly as his voice dropped to a whisper.  “Oh God Dennis, who’s going to want…”  Too emotional to continue, Tom threw his arm over his face and burst into tears.  Hearing his hysterical sobbing, Janice hurried in and quickly covered the sheet back over Tom’s scarred body whilst casting a worried glance in Dennis’ direction.

Booker sat in stunned silence for several seconds before leaning forward and pulling Tom into his arms.  “ _I_ want you,” he murmured softly, instantly forgetting all the doubts he had about Hanson.

Lifting his head, Tom stared into Dennis’ eyes and choked back a sob.  “Why?” 

Cradling Tom in his arms, Dennis gently rocked him back and forth.  “Because you’re Tommy Hanson,” he whispered, “and I’ve loved you from the first day I saw you.”

“But I’m such a fuck up!” Tom cried.  “I’ve caused you nothing but pain Dennis, I don’t understand why you keep coming back.”

Dennis kissed the top of Tom’s head.  “Because I _love_ you Tommy and love isn’t a rational emotion.”

Closing his eyes, Tom relaxed against Booker’s muscular body and he slowly began to regain his composure.  “I love you too,” he murmured.  “I know you don’t believe me, but I do and I’m so sorry for everything—”

 Smiling, Booker, swung his legs onto the bed and lay down next to Tom, whilst continuing to hold him in his arms.  “Shh,” he whispered.  “Close your eyes and get some rest.”

After an hour, Tom eventually drifted off to sleep and when he awoke, he was still in Dennis’ arms.  



	34. Let There Be More Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Janice returned the smile.  “I’m pleased to hear it.  Now, how about we go and see Tom.”_
> 
> _Dennis nodded and he followed Janice into the ICU.  When he approached Tom, he could see that he had been crying.  Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took his friend’s hand in his.  “Hey Tommy,” he murmured softly.  “Tell me what’s wrong.”_
> 
> _Turning his tearstained face towards Dennis, Tom’s lower lip trembled.  “H-Have you s-seen it?” he sobbed.  “H-Have you s-seen what h-he did to m-me?”_
> 
> _Laying a hand on Tom’s head, Booker gently stroked his hair.  “No,” he replied quietly, his eyes filled with anguish.  “But Tommy it doesn’t—”_
> 
> _“LOOK!” Tom screamed, pulling down the sheet that covered his body.  “LOOK WHAT HE DID TO ME!”_
> 
> _Dennis felt vomit rise in his throat as he stared down at the deep gashes that crisscrossed Tom’s chest, stomach and thighs.  Many had been sutured and the wounds looked red and lumpy.  He tried to keep the revulsion out of his eyes but the sight was too shocking.  “Oh Jesus,” he whispered, covering his mouth with his hand.  “Oh Tommy…”_
> 
> _“I’M A FUCKING FREAK!” Tom screamed.  “WHO’S GOING TO WANT ME NOW?” His eyes grew large and he gazed at Dennis imploringly as his voice dropped to a whisper.  “Oh God Dennis, who’s going to want…”  Too emotional to continue, Tom threw his arm over his face and burst into tears.  Hearing his hysterical sobbing, Janice hurried in and quickly covered the sheet back over Tom’s scarred body whilst casting a worried glance in Dennis’ direction._
> 
> _Booker sat in stunned silence for several seconds before leaning forward and pulling Tom into his arms.  “I want you,” he murmured softly, instantly forgetting all the doubts he had about Hanson._
> 
> _Lifting his head, Tom stared into Dennis’ eyes and choked back a sob.  “Why?”_
> 
> _Cradling Tom in his arms, Dennis gently rocked him back and forth.  “Because you’re Tommy Hanson,” he whispered, “and I’ve loved you from the first day I saw you.”_
> 
> _“But I’m such a fuck up!” Tom cried.  “I’ve caused you nothing but pain Dennis, I don’t understand why you keep coming back.”_
> 
> _Dennis kissed the top of Tom’s head.  “Because I love you Tommy and love isn’t a rational emotion.”_
> 
> _Closing his eyes, Tom relaxed against Booker’s muscular body and he slowly began to regain his composure.  “I love you too,” he murmured.  “I know you don’t believe me, but I do and I’m so sorry for everything—”_
> 
> _Smiling, Booker, swung his legs onto the bed and lay down next to Tom, whilst continuing to hold him in his arms.  “Shh,” he whispered.  “Close your eyes and get some rest.”_
> 
> _After an hour, Tom eventually drifted off to sleep and when he awoke, he was still in Dennis’ arms._

**Let There Be More Light**  

Ten days after arriving at the hospital, Tom moved into a private room.  His wrist needed to remain in a cast for a further five weeks but because it was a non-displaced fracture, it was doubtful he would have any further problems once it had mended.  The wounds that covered his body were also beginning to heal but the scars would always be a constant reminder to Tom of how close he came to dying.  He was still extremely self-conscious of them and refused to let anyone see them except for the nursing staff that checked them daily for signs of infection.  Even when the police had returned for a second interview, Tom was reluctant to allow a photographer to document his injuries.  But Dennis had quietly intervened, reminding Tom that as an ex police officer, he of all people knew how important it was to have an accurate record of all the wounds the man had inflicted upon him, just in case there was ever a trial.  A police sketch artist had also visited Tom and he had managed to give them an accurate description of his attacker.  CSI had lifted fingerprints from the scene and they were in the process of running them through the IAFIS, but as hundreds of people a year frequented the hotel, it was a slow procedure.  

Dennis had attempted to speak to Tom about his ordeal, but he refused to talk about it, immediately becoming sullen and uncommunicative.  It worried Booker that Tom was once again holding on to his pain rather than opening up about his feelings and he spoke to Doctor Heath about his concerns.  The doctor immediately reassured him that it was early days and to wait and see what happened once Tom started his therapy sessions.  Booker knew that what the doctor said made sense but he could not help feeling that Tom was once again shutting him out.  But if he had learned anything over the time he had spent with Hanson, it was to not push.  Tom was stubborn and it was almost impossible to get him to do something if he did not want to do it.

When Dennis arrived at the hospital for his daily visit, he found Tom sitting in a chair staring vacantly out of the window.  Walking over, he bent down and kissed the top of his head.  Hanson looked up and managed a small smile.  “Hey Dennis.”

Dennis unpacked several clean t-shirts and boxers and laid them on the bed along with two books.  “How are you feeling today?” he asked, sensing that Tom was not in the best frame of mind.

“I’m okay,” Tom sighed, his eyes returning to the window.

Deciding to give his friend some space, Dennis busied himself putting away Tom’s clothing and tidying up the table and bedside cabinet.  When he had finished, he walked over to the window and leaned his buttocks against the sill. Crossing his arms, he stared down at Tom.  “Doctor Heath says you’re beginning your therapy sessions tomorrow and then we can talk about you coming home.”

“Great,” Tom muttered, his eyes never leaving the street below.  “More useless fucking therapy by another useless fucking doctor.  I can’t wait.”

“Hey,” Booker replied forcefully.  “If you want to get out of here, you need to stop this self pitying bullshit.  You need help Tom and the sooner you realize it, the easier it will be.”

Looking up, Tom gave Dennis a derisive stare.  “Oh come on Dennis, we both know that therapy hasn’t helped me.  What makes you think this time will be any different?”

Dennis could sense a battle brewing but he kept his voice calm.  “Because this time we have Doctor Heath on our side,” he responded.  “He’s a good doctor Tom and I’m confident that he will find the best therapist to help you.”

“Maybe,” Tom replied quietly.  When Dennis did not reply, he gave a half smile.  “Sorry, I guess I’m not as optimistic as you, I’ve been let down too many times.”

Reaching out, Dennis gently pushed back Tom’s hair.  “Just promise me you’ll go in with an open mind.”

Nodding slightly, Tom stared at the floor before looking up and giving Dennis a piercing look.  “What happened to your boyfriend?”

Dennis knew he should be used to Tom’s blunt questions but he found himself caught off guard.  “Um, what do you mean?” he asked nervously.

“You told me on the phone you were seeing someone,” Tom replied matter-of-factly, his gaze never leaving Dennis’ face.  “Then you come in here the other day and tell me you love me.  I can’t imagine he’d be too happy if he heard you saying that.”

Pulling up a chair, Dennis laid his hands on Tom’s knees and looked deep into his dark brown eyes.  “Is that what’s troubling you?” he asked softly.  “Do you think I’m lying to you?”

“I don’t know,” Tom answered back, his eyes narrowing slightly.  “Are you?”

Booker hesitated for a moment before laying a palm against Tom’s cheek.  “No Tom, I’m not.  George and I broke up.”

Dropping his gaze, Tom stared at his hands for a moment before peering up through his long bangs.  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Smiling, Dennis brushed Tom’s hair from his eyes.  “Don’t be,” he reassured.  “I realized I wasn’t in love with him so it was for the best.”

Tom could not help but return a shy smile.  “But you love _me_ , right?”

Laughing softly, Dennis pulled Tom into a gentle hug.  “Yes Tommy, I love _you_.  How many times do I have to say it before you believe me?”

Tom grinned cheekily.  “Forever,” he replied.  “And in case you were wondering, I love you too.”

Even though Tom had said it countless times before, this was the first time Dennis actually believed it.  “Oh baby,” he murmured, leaning forward and brushing his lips against Tom’s full pout.  “This time, everything will work out right, just you wait and see.”

“Yeah,” Tom replied with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes.  He still had so much healing to do, both physically and emotionally and he knew that if he were ever to have a successful relationship with Dennis, he needed to remove himself from his care and learn how to live an independent life of his own.

**

As the days passed, Tom slowly showed signs of improvement.  The pain from the horrific knife wounds had eased and the masses of bruises on his face and torso were slowly fading to a bluish green.  But the biggest improvement was with his general outlook on life.  He had started his therapy sessions somewhat reluctantly but had returned from his first appointment with Doctor Henry Campbell quietly optimistic that he had finally found someone who could help him learn to come to terms with his tortured past.  

For Dennis, it was heartwarming to see Tom slowly come out of his shell again and become more confident.  He longed to catch a glimpse of the Tom Hanson he had first met, the self-assured, strong, dedicated and funny man that he had initially fallen in love with.  Although Hanson’s appearance had changed somewhat over the last three and a half years; he was thinner now and there was the obvious scarring to his body; it was the noticeable transformation of his personality that Booker found most difficult to come to terms with.  After each trauma that Tom had endured, a little bit more of the old Tom Hanson was lost and in its place was a new Tom Hanson, a man that Dennis was only now, getting to know.  But although he yearned to see a flash of the old Tom’s trademark cheeky smile, Dennis found himself falling in love all over again with the new Tom that was emerging from years of exploitation and abuse.  He saw the beginnings of a light shining in Tom’s eyes that had not been there before and he knew that he owed it all to Timothy Heath and the outstanding care he had given to Hanson since he had arrived at Eastside Hospital.

Walking into the now familiar hospital room, Dennis smiled when he saw Tom lying on the bed reading.  It was such a normal sight and yet Dennis could not remember the last time he had seen Tom do anything even _remotely_ average or mundane except to watch TV in an almost mindless, zombie like state.  It was a refreshing change and another small step in Tom’s recovery.

“Hey beautiful,” Dennis greeted warmly, reaching out and running his fingers through Tom’s tousled hair.  “How are you feeling?”

Closing his book, Tom looked up and smiled.  “Good,” he replied.  “I had a session with Doctor Campbell and he’s going to have a talk to Doctor Heath but he thinks I’m ready to go home.”

“Tommy that’s fantastic news!” Dennis exclaimed happily, as he pulled up a chair and sat down.  “I’ll start getting things organized at home and you can move in as soon as you’re released.”

Tom cast his eyes downwards and nervously picked at the blanket on the bed.  “No,” he murmured softly.  “I don’t want to live with you Dennis, I want to go back to the Turners’ boarding house.”

A deep furrow creased Dennis’ brow.  “What?” he asked somewhat crossly.  “Why would you want to go back there when you can come home with me?”

Rubbing a hand over his forehead as though he had the beginnings of a headache, Tom closed his eyes for a moment before returning Dennis’ puzzled gaze.  “Please don’t make a big deal out of this Dennis,” he replied quietly.  “I’ve spoken to Doctor Campbell and he thinks—”

Dennis stood up abruptly, his chair scraping across the floor.  “Are you fucking kidding me?  You’re leaving me again?” he yelled angrily.  “I can’t believe that George was right!  You’re nothing but a manipulative, self-centered user!  Well fuck you Tom Hanson, you can go to hell!  I don’t need you in my life, I’m fucking over it and I’m fucking over _YOU!”_

Jumping quickly from the bed, Tom’s eyes filled with shock and he attempted to grab hold of Dennis’ arm.  “Dennis no!  You don’t—” 

But Booker would not listen and he shoved Tom roughly away.  “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!” he screamed furiously.  “I swear to God Tom, if you touch me again I’ll knock your fucking head off!”

Backing away, Tom wrapped his unplastered arm around his torso, as his face became pale and his breath hitched in his throat.  “Please… Dennis… you don’t… understand… I…”  Falling backwards against the bed, Tom doubled over and cried out in pain.  “Oh God… Dennis… please… help… _me!_ ”

Fear filled Booker’s eyes and he rushed forward and put a steadying arm around Tom’s waist.  “What is it?” he cried.  “Tommy what’s wrong?”

Pulling his arm away, Tom revealed blood soaking through the front of his t-shirt.  “I think… I’ve pulled… my stitches,” he panted, his face etched in pain.  

Dennis could feel Tom’s legs collapsing and he quickly lifted him onto the bed.  Hanson immediately wrapped his arm back around his body and groaned in pain.  Looking frantically around him, Booker found the Nurses Call Button and pressed it, he then returned his attention to Tom.  “It’s okay baby,” he said in an anxious voice, his hand gently stroking Tom’s hair.  “It’ll be okay.”

Screwing his eyes closed, Tom moaned loudly.  “It… hurts,” he cried.  “Oh fuck… Dennis… it hurts!”

Not bothering to press the buzzer again, Dennis ran out into the corridor.  “I NEED SOME HELP!” he yelled.

A nurse hurried into the room and quickly assessed the situation.  Gently pushing Tom back against the pillow, she lifted up his t-shirt.  Dennis gasped when he saw that several of the deep wounds were bleeding heavily.  Throwing an arm over his face, Tom began to weep.  “Get out!” he sobbed.  “I don’t want you looking at me.  Get the fuck _OUT!”_

Turning away, Dennis stumbled from the room.  Walking silently down the corridor, he found a seat and sat down heavily.  He buried his face in his hands and fought back tears of shock and sadness.  Everything had been going so well between them but once again, the tide had turned and he and Tom were again screaming abuse at each other.  It slowly dawned on him that he still did not completely trust Tom and that was why he had jumped to the wrong conclusion.

Lifting his head, Dennis stared at the open door of Tom’s room.  He watched in silence as several nurses bustled in and out and he sighed heavily as a veil of depression washed over him.   Burying his face back in his hands, he began to wonder if he and Tom were ever destined to be together.  



	35. A Saucerful of Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: “Hey beautiful,” Dennis greeted warmly, reaching out and running his fingers through Tom’s tousled hair.  “How are you feeling?”_
> 
> _Closing his book, Tom looked up and smiled.  “Good,” he replied.  “I had a session with Doctor Campbell and he’s going to have a talk to Doctor Heath but he thinks I’m ready to go home.”_
> 
> _“Tommy that’s fantastic news!” Dennis exclaimed happily, as he pulled up a chair and sat down.  “I’ll start getting things organized at home and you can move in as soon as you’re released.”_
> 
> _Tom cast his eyes downwards and nervously picked at the blanket on the bed.  “No,” he murmured softly.  “I don’t want to live with you Dennis, I want to go back to the Turners’ boarding house.”_
> 
> _A deep furrow creased Dennis’ brow.  “What?” he asked somewhat crossly.  “Why would you want to go back there when you can come home with me?”_
> 
> _Rubbing a hand over his forehead as though he had the beginnings of a headache, Tom closed his eyes for a moment before returning Dennis’ puzzled gaze.  “Please don’t make a big deal out of this Dennis,” he replied quietly.  “I’ve spoken to Doctor Campbell and he thinks—”_
> 
> _Dennis stood up abruptly, his chair scraping across the floor.  “Are you fucking kidding me?  You’re leaving me again?” he yelled angrily.  “I can’t believe that George was right!  You’re nothing but a manipulative, self-centered user!  Well fuck you Tom Hanson, you can go to hell!  I don’t need you in my life, I’m fucking over it and I’m fucking over YOU!”_
> 
> _Jumping quickly from the bed, Tom’s eyes filled with shock and he attempted to grab hold of Dennis’ arm.  “Dennis no!  You don’t—”_
> 
> _But Booker would not listen and he shoved Tom roughly away.  “DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!” he screamed furiously.  “I swear to God Tom, if you touch me again I’ll knock your fucking head off!”_
> 
> _Backing away, Tom wrapped his unplastered arm around his torso, as his face became pale and his breath hitched in his throat.  “Please… Dennis… you don’t… understand… I…”  Falling backwards against the bed, Tom doubled over and cried out in pain.  “Oh God… Dennis… please… help… me!”_
> 
> _Fear filled Booker’s eyes and he rushed forward and put a steadying arm around Tom’s waist.  “What is it?” he cried.  “Tommy what’s wrong?”_
> 
> _Pulling his arm away, Tom revealed blood soaking through the front of his t-shirt.  “I think… I’ve pulled… my stitches,” he panted, his face etched in pain._
> 
> _Dennis could feel Tom’s legs collapsing and he quickly lifted him onto the bed.  Hanson immediately wrapped his arm back around his body and groaned in pain.  Looking frantically around him, Booker found the Nurses Call Button and pressed it, he then returned his attention to Tom.  “It’s okay baby,” he said in an anxious voice, his hand gently stroking Tom’s hair.  “It’ll be okay.”_
> 
> _Screwing his eyes closed, Tom moaned loudly.  “It… hurts,” he cried.  “Oh fuck… Dennis… it hurts!”_
> 
> _Not bothering to press the buzzer again, Dennis ran out into the corridor.  “I NEED SOME HELP!” he yelled._
> 
> _A nurse hurried into the room and quickly assessed the situation.  Gently pushing Tom back against the pillow, she lifted up his t-shirt.  Dennis gasped when he saw that several of the deep wounds were bleeding heavily.  Throwing an arm over his face, Tom began to weep.  “Get out!” he sobbed.  “I don’t want you looking at me.  Get the fuck OUT!”_
> 
> _Turning away, Dennis stumbled from the room.  Walking silently down the corridor, he found a seat and sat down heavily.  He buried his face in his hands and fought back tears of shock and sadness.  Everything had been going so well between them but once again, the tide had turned and he and Tom were once again screaming abuse at each other.  It slowly dawned on him that he still did not completely trust Tom and that was why he had once again, jumped to the wrong conclusion._
> 
> _Lifting his head, Dennis stared at the open door of Tom’s room.  He watched in silence as several nurses bustled in and out and he sighed heavily as a veil of depression washed over him.   Burying his face back in his hands, he began to wonder if he and Tom were ever destined to be together._

**A Saucerful of Secrets**  

After spending an hour watching medical staff come and go from Tom’s room whilst mentally berating himself for losing his temper, Dennis stood up and approached the nurses’ station.  He waited patiently until Nurse Jackie Douglas looked up from her paperwork and gave him a hard stare.  “I don’t know what happened in there Dennis,” she admonished in a firm voice.  “But if you upset Tom again, I’ll ban you from seeing him.” 

Lowering his eyes, Dennis felt a hot flush of embarrassment stain his cheeks.  “I’m sorry,” he muttered quietly.  “Is he okay?”

Nurse Jackie’s face softened when she heard real concern in Dennis’ voice.  “Several of the deeper wounds have opened up but the doctor has resutured them.  He’s been given some pain medication so he’s pretty out of it but you can go in and see him if you like.”

Turning to look at the door of Tom’s room, Dennis chewed on his lower lip as he tried to decide what would be best for Tom.  Looking back around, he gave Jackie a hesitant smile.  “Maybe I’ll leave it until tomorrow, you know, let him get some rest.”

Picking up her clipboard, Jackie walked out into the corridor and stood in front of Booker.   “It’s up to you but I think he’d really like to see you,” she informed him.  “He kept muttering that it was all a misunderstanding.”

Looking back at Tom’s open doorway, Dennis made his decision.  Walking across the hallway, he entered Tom’s room and stopped outside the drawn curtain.  He took a deep breath before speaking.  “Hey Tommy, can I come in?”

Deafening silence answered his question and after waiting another few seconds, he turned to go.  Just as he was exiting the room, he heard Tom’s bewildered voice.  “Dennis?”

Turning back around, Dennis drew back the curtain and walked into the cubicle.  He swallowed down a lump in his throat when he saw Tom’s tired, pale face staring at him.  He wavered for a moment before walking up to the bed and taking Tom’s hand in his.  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.  “I never should have pushed you.”

Shaking his head, Tom gazed back with drowsy eyes.  “It’s _my_ fault,” he murmured, his words beginning to slur from the medication.  “I didn’t explain… properly.”  His eyes closed and his voice became barely audible.  “Stay… with… me…” he mumbled as he slowly began to lose consciousness.  “Tó _came_.”

Blinking back tears, Dennis pulled up a chair and sat down.  Reaching out, he gently stroked Tom’s sweaty hair.  “I’m here for you baby,” he reassured softly.  “Whatever you need and I promise I won’t ever hurt you again.”

“Te… quiero… Dennis,” Tom breathed as his head lolled to one side and he fell into a deep, drug-induced sleep.

Leaning forward, Booker pressed his lips against Tom’s soft pout.  “I love you too baby.”

Sitting back in his chair, Dennis continued to caress Tom’s hair as he gazed into his sleeping face.  He had no idea what Hanson meant when he had said, _“I didn’t explain properly,”_ but he knew that no matter what Tom’s explanation was, he needed to deal with it maturely and not  fly off the handle as he had done previously, even if it was something he did not want to hear.  

Closing his eyes, Booker smiled as he played over Tom’s final words in his head.  Even though he had spoken in Spanish, Dennis knew what Hanson had said.  Tom loved him and that was all that mattered.

**

Waking early the following morning, Dennis stretched out in bed and yawned sleepily.  Throwing back the covers, he reached down and lazily rubbed at his early morning erection.  Closing his eyes, he thought back to the night before.  He had stayed at the hospital until the end of visiting hours, all the while stroking and playing with Tom’s hair in the manner that he knew Hanson found comforting.  Although Tom had remained asleep throughout, Dennis could not bring himself to leave until Nurse Jackie had told him in a firm voice to go home.  He felt an overwhelming sense of guilt for the pain that Tom was suffering.  If he had not lost his temper and screamed abuse, Tom would never have leaped from the bed.   However, what bothered him the most was that he had violently laid his hands on Tom.  He did not know which event had caused Hanson’s wounds to reopen but he knew he was responsible either way and it was not a proud moment for him.  Tom deserved to feel safe, especially after everything that had happened to him over the last three and a half years and even more importantly, Dennis wanted him to feel safe when they were together.  
   
Picturing Tom’s sleeping face in his mind, Dennis moaned softly and he began to tug at his erect cock.  He imagined Tom’s fingers stroking him and his pace increased.  His mind turned to Tom’s seductive, full lips and he envisioned them wrapped around his weeping cockhead.  The image pushed him over the edge and he cried out Tom’s name as he ejaculated violently over his stomach and fingers.  Panting heavily, his fingers continued to play lightly over his softening cock as he took pleasure from the calming post-orgasmic sensation that ran through his entire body.  

Opening his eyes, he glanced at the luminous dial of the clock on his bedside cabinet.  He had an appointment with a potential client in an hour and then he could go to the hospital and spend the day with Tom.  With a low groan, he climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom.  Twenty minutes later, he was showered, dressed and ready for his meeting.  Checking the time, he gulped down a cup of coffee and left the apartment.

Dennis arrived at his office twenty minutes later.  Unlocking his door, he switched on the light and checked his messages.  Sitting down at his desk, he read the notes he had jotted down when the man had rung him the day before and requested an appointment.  The client’s name was Brayden Whacker and he had remained guarded as to why he needed to consult with a PI.  But as Booker could no longer afford to be choosy with his clientele, he had not pushed the matter.  Although the lack of information made him suspicious, Dennis had been in the business long enough to know that many people found it difficult to admit that they needed a private investigator and it often took some coaxing to get them to open up about their problems.  

A loud knock brought Dennis back to the present and standing up, he walked across the room and opened the door.  Casting a professional eye over the man standing before him, Dennis could instantly see that he was streetwise.  Dressed in a red hoodie, faded denims and black motorcycle boots, Whacker looked to be about twenty-five years old.  He was attractive in a bad boy kind of way, with tousled black hair and a cheeky, lopsided grin.  Booker was immediately puzzled as to why someone who had obviously spent time on the streets, needed his help.

Stepping back from the door, he let Brayden enter and shook his hand.  Motioning for him to take a seat, Dennis sat down behind his desk.  “So what exactly can I do for you Mr. Whacker?” he asked pleasantly, trying to keep the wariness out of his voice.

Smiling affably, Whacker leaned forward and rested the palms of his hands on the desk.  “It’s not what you can do for me Mr. Booker.  It’s what I can do for you.”

Immediately sensing a scam, Dennis tilted back his chair and tented his fingers in front of his face.  “Is that right?” he asked softly.  “Mr. Whacker, I doubt there is anything you can do for me but I’m willing to give you five minutes of my time so you’d better start talking.”

Throwing back his head, Brayden laughed loudly.  “Oh I think you’ll be _very_ interested in what I have to say.  From what I hear, you’ve got a bit of a soft spot for Tommy, as most of us who’ve had dealings with him do.”

Booker eyed Whacker distrustfully.  “You know Tommy?” he asked quietly.

Lacing his fingers behind his head, Whacker leaned back in his chair.  “Actually, I knew Tommy _very_ well, if you get my drift,” he replied smugly.

Dennis felt his blood pressure rising and he clenched his hands into tight fists.  “You’d better watch what you say Whacker,” he muttered through gritted teeth.  “Or I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

Brayden’s grin broadened.  “Oh come on, you and I both know that Tommy was a whore and a fucking good one at that.  Man, when I was ramming my cock up his ass and he started speaking Spanish whilst I was choking the breath out of him... _Damn!_   Nothing gets you hornier than—”

With a yell, Dennis launched himself over the desk and slammed his fist into Whacker’s face, sending him and the chair crashing backwards onto the floor.   Scrambling slowly to his feet, the young man rubbed his fingers over his jaw.  “Nice right hook,” he mocked, bending down and picking up his chair before sitting back down as if nothing had happened.  “But why don’t you keep hold of that anger and use it on the bastard that hurt Tommy.”

Dennis stood breathing heavily for several moments before returning to his seat.  “If you’ve got something to say, say it.  If not, get the hell out of my office,” he hissed.

Whacker moved his jaw from side to side and satisfied that there was no damage, he resumed his languid position.  “As I was saying, I knew Tommy on the streets but he knew me by my street name, Thumper.  I was his dealer and if he didn’t have the cash, well we’d…” Brayden’s voice trailed off when he saw the warning look in Booker’s eyes.  “Not important,” he continued hurriedly.  “Anyway, I heard what happened to him at the Rendezvous Hotel so I kept my ear to the ground, you know, in case this freak had done something like it before.  Well, I heard a whisper on the streets about a guy who gets his kicks carving up hookers.  From what I’ve heard, he hasn’t done anything as freaky as what he did to Tommy, but he’s known around the ‘hood as _The Butcher_ and you don’t get a nickname like that without forging some kind of reputation.  It’s not easy getting info, you know, the streets have a code and no one likes talking to the cops.  But Tommy talked about you and I thought maybe you could do something with the information.  Word is this whack-job’s name is Nathaniel Smith.”  
   
Whacker’s revelation completely stunned Dennis and he sat staring at the man seated in front of him for a full minute before finally speaking.  “Are you bullshitting me?” he asked quietly.

“Hey man,” Whacker replied.  “I _like_ Tommy.  Everything I’ve told you is straight up.  What you choose to do with the information is up to you.”  Standing up, he handed Booker a piece of paper.  “This is where I’m staying.  If you want to speak to me again, leave a message with the manager.”

Walking to the door, he suddenly stopped and when he turned back around, his eyes were full of concern.  “How is he?” he asked softly.

Hating the fact that he was jealous of the man’s genuine affection for Tom, Dennis gave Whacker an insincere smile.  “He’s doing okay, all things considered.

Throwing Booker a cheeky look, Brayden raised his eyebrows suggestively.  “Give him my love,” he smirked and before Booker could respond, he walked from the room.

**

Arriving at the hospital, Booker stood for a full five minutes outside Tom’s room, desperately trying to decide whether to tell him about his visit from Whacker.  He did not want to drag up bad memories for Hanson about his life on the streets and neither did he want to give him false hope that they had a lead on the man who had almost ended his life.  But the other part of Booker’s brain argued that he had promised Tom that he would never lie to him again.  By keeping the information quiet, Booker was not technically lying, but he did feel that he was being deceitful if he did not share what Whacker had told him.  It was the proverbial Catch-22 situation and the more Dennis thought about it, the more he realized that he was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t.  

Fully aware that he could not keep standing outside Tom’s room procrastinating about what was the best option, Booker came to a decision.  He would gauge Tom’s emotional state and if Dennis thought he was strong enough to talk about his past, he would bring the subject up.

Walking into the room, he was surprised to see Tom sitting in a chair reading his book.  Stepping forward, he bent over and kissed the top of Tom’s head.  “I’m sorry,” he murmured quietly.  “I behaved like a complete asshole yesterday.”

Closing his book, Tom slowly struggled to his feet.  Moving forward, he wrapped his arms around Dennis’ waist and pulled him into a tight embrace, wincing slightly as the wounds on his torso pulled against the stitches.  “ _I’m_ sorry,” he whispered.  Lifting his head, he pressed his lips against Dennis’ mouth and kissed him tenderly.  

Thrilled that Tom had initiated contact, Dennis kissed him back slowly but passionately.  As their fervor intensified, their tongues danced excitedly around each other’s mouths and Booker felt a stirring in his groin.  Taking control of the situation, he slowed the kiss until he finally pulled away.  Staring into Tom’s dark eyes, he grinned happily.  “I could get used to greetings like that,” he joked teasingly.

But Tom did not return the smile and a deep frown knitted his brow.  “I mean it Dennis, I’m _really_ sorry.  I should have explained things better.  Do you forgive me?”

Placing his hands on either side of Tom’s face, Dennis leaned forward and kissed his friend on the forehead.  “What do you think?” he asked softly.

Relieved by Booker’s answer, Tom managed a small smile.  “I owe you an explanation about why I said I didn’t want to live with you,” he replied.

“Okay,” Dennis responded and taking Hanson’s hand, he led him over to the bed.  When Tom was comfortably lying back against the pillows, Booker perched on the edge of the mattress and laid a hand on his thigh.  “Talk to me,” he encouraged quietly.

Tom took a deep breath.  “I’ve been talking to Doctor Campbell about us.”  Seeing Dennis’ surprised look, he rubbed his finger nervously over his top lip and smiled self-consciously.  “I told him how important you are to me and how I keep fucking up our relationship.”

“Tom—”Booker started to protest but Hanson interrupted him.

“Don’t speak Dennis, okay?  I really need to say this.”  When Dennis nodded silently, Tom continued.  “I told him I wanted things to be different this time, that I wanted to do everything I could to make it work.”  A pink flush tinged his skin and he lowered his eyes in embarrassment.  Without speaking, Dennis reached out and gave Tom’s fingers an encouraging squeeze.  Raising his gaze, Hanson stared deep into Booker’s eyes.  “I love you Dennis,” he whispered softly.  “But the only way this relationship can move forward is if I start standing on my own two feet.  I can’t keep relying on you to take care of me, I need to take care of myself and the only way I can do that is if I live on my own.  Do you understand?”

“Oh baby,” Dennis replied, his eyes filling with tears.  “Of _course_ I understand and I want to make it work too.  This is a new beginning for us.”  Leaning forward, he kissed Tom tenderly on the lips.  “Third time’s the charm,” he murmured against Tom’s soft pout.  “This time it’ll be different.”

Shifting his body to the side of the mattress, Tom motioned for Dennis to lie down next to him.  Laying his head against Dennis’ broad chest, he placed his arm around his lover’s waist.  Closing his eyes, he sighed contentedly when Booker started gently pulling at his hair.  Several minutes passed and then without warning Dennis’ hand stilled.  Opening his eyes, Tom looked up enquiringly.  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Smiling reassuringly, Dennis gazed deep into Tom’s puzzled eyes.  “There’s something I need to tell you baby,” he began somewhat hesitantly, “and I’m asking the same of you as you asked of me.  Just listen, okay?”

Staring back with worried eyes, Tom nodded slowly and as Dennis started to speak, he once again felt his world crashing in around him.  



	36. Outside the Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Tom took a deep breath.  “I’ve been talking to Doctor Campbell about us.”  Seeing Dennis’ surprised look, he rubbed his finger nervously over his top lip and smiled self-consciously.  “I told him how important you are to me and how I keep fucking up our relationship.”_
> 
> _“Tom—” Booker started to protest but Hanson interrupted him._
> 
> _“Don’t speak Dennis, okay?  I really need to say this.”  When Dennis nodded silently, Tom continued.  “I told him I wanted things to be different this time, that I wanted to do everything I could to make it work.”  A pink flush tinged his skin and he lowered his eyes in embarrassment.  Without speaking, Dennis reached out and gave Tom’s fingers an encouraging squeeze.  Raising his gaze, Hanson stared deep into Booker’s eyes.  “I love you Dennis,” he whispered softly.  “But the only way this relationship can move forward is if I start standing on my own two feet.  I can’t keep relying on you to take care of me, I need to take care of myself and the only way I can do that is if I live on my own.  Do you understand?”_
> 
> _“Oh baby,” Dennis replied, his eyes filling with tears.  “Of course I understand and I want to make it work too.  This is a new beginning for us.”  Leaning forward, he kissed Tom tenderly on the lips.  “Third time’s the charm,” he murmured against Tom’s soft pout.  “This time it’ll be different.”_
> 
> _Shifting his body to the side of the mattress, Tom motioned for Dennis to lie down next to him.  Laying his head against Dennis’ broad chest, he placed his arm around his lover’s waist.  Closing his eyes, he sighed contentedly when Booker started gently pulling at his hair.  Several minutes passed and then without warning Dennis’ hand stilled.  Opening his eyes, Tom looked up enquiringly.  “What’s wrong?” he asked._
> 
> _Smiling reassuringly, Dennis gazed deep into Tom’s puzzled eyes.  “There’s something I need to tell you baby,” he began somewhat hesitantly, “and I’m asking the same of you as you asked of me.  Just listen, okay?”_
> 
> _Staring back with worried eyes, Tom nodded slowly and as Dennis started to speak, he once again felt his world crashing in around him._

**Outside the Wall**  

A further five days passed before Doctor Heath and Doctor Campbell agreed to let Tom go home.  The delay in releasing him was partly because Doctor Heath wanted to monitor how his wounds were healing after the resuturing but mostly because Tom had fallen into a deep depression after Dennis recounted his conversation with Thumper.  The unwanted memories of his assault at the hands of _The Butcher_ were once again forefront in Tom’s mind and now that the police had the name of a possible suspect, there was a very real chance that they would catch Nathaniel Smith and there would be a trial.  Tom could not bear the thought of revealing his sordid past to a jury of his so-called peers.  He knew they would judge him just as harshly as they would the man who had held him captive and brutally disfigured him over a twenty-four hour period. He was well aware that prostitutes did not get any compassion from the public, no matter what crime had been committed against them.  Ultimately, most people would leave the trial thinking that he got what he deserved and in Tom’s mind, he thought that maybe he had.

It had taken Dennis many hours of gentle persuasion before Tom finally agreed to accept a lift to the boarding house.  Hanson had become increasingly stubborn since revealing his desire to become more independent.  Booker found it frustrating that his lover would not readily accept his help, even though he was floundering in a black hole of depression.  But he knew that if he wanted their relationship to move forward, he needed to respect Tom’s wishes and take a back seat with regards to his general welfare.  Although he worried constantly about him, Booker understood his lover’s need to prove that he was capable of living on his own.  His one reassurance was that the Turners appeared to be extremely affectionate towards Tom and he knew that they would keep an eye on his wellbeing.  They had visited the hospital almost daily and it was refreshing for Dennis to see Tom’s comfortable interaction with the elderly couple.  Mary and Abe Turner could give Tom the love that he had been missing since losing both his parents and Booker knew how important that type of love was to any man, woman or child.

Upon entering the hospital room, Booker saw Tom standing at the window.  It seemed strange to see him dressed in a t-shirt and jeans; it had been so long since Tom had worn anything but a t-shirt and boxers.  Putting down the small holdall he had brought to pack Tom’s belongings into, Dennis walked over to his lover and placed an arm around his waist.  “Hey,” he greeted.  “I bet you can’t wait to get out of here.”

Turning around, Tom leaned against Dennis and kissed him tenderly on the lips.  “I guess,” he replied quietly, his hands resting on Booker’s hips.  “It’s weird but I feel a little nervous.”

Remembering Tom’s reaction the last time he had left the hospital, Dennis nodded and pulled him in close.  “That’s understandable Tommy.  But just remember, I’m here for you and so are the Turners.  Never forget that you’re not alone.”

Gazing into Dennis dark eyes, Tom grinned.  “When I first met you, I never would have believed you were such a mother hen,” he teased.  “You were such an arrogant prick back then.”

Laughing, Booker swatted Tom playfully on the backside.  “And I never would have thought you could be such a pain in the ass,” he replied.  “Stubborn yes but I guess love blinded me to all your other faults.”

Grasping hold of Dennis’ buttocks, Tom gave them a squeeze as he leaned forward for another kiss.  As their tongues intertwined, Dennis felt his cock beginning to swell.  He groaned into Tom’s hot mouth, pulling him closer so he could feel his lover’s hard bulge pressing against him.  The contact lasted only a few seconds before Tom broke the kiss and took a step backwards.  Booker gazed down at Hanson’s bowed head in puzzlement.  Since Tom’s assault, they had kissed and held each other close and he had not expected anything more given the nature of Tom’s injuries.  But he had always assumed that once Tom left the hospital and was physically healed, they would pick up where they had left off; enjoying each other’s bodies whilst continuing to move towards full sexual intimacy.  It had never occurred to him that Tom might not want a physical relationship beyond kissing and hugging and he suddenly wondered if he had overstepped the boundary and misinterpreted Tom’s wants and needs.

Sensing Tom’s discomfort, Booker stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his friend.  “Hey,” he murmured against Tom’s hair.  “I’m sorry.  I guess I misread the signs.  The last thing I want is for you to feel pressured.”

Lifting his head, Tom stared at Dennis with sad eyes.  “It’s not you, it’s me,” he muttered, before pulling away and turning to stare out the window.  

Booker sighed and ran his fingers through his hair whilst deciding what to do.  He felt as though he and Tom were forever taking one step forward and two steps backwards in their relationship.  Just when he felt he and Hanson were making progress, something prevented them from moving forward.  It was frustrating but he knew he needed to give Tom the time he needed.  His lover still carried so much mental baggage, all of it of a sexual nature and it was obvious that there would be issues regarding intimacy.  Dennis just wished that Tom felt comfortable enough to talk to him about it and not continue to put up barriers.

Deciding that openness was the best policy, Booker perched on the windowsill and stared up into Tom’s miserable face.  “Talk to me,” he coaxed softly.  “Whatever it is Tommy, I’ll understand.”

“I’m scared,” Tom murmured, his gaze remaining fixed on the world outside.

“Of what?” Dennis asked quietly.

Tom began to chew nervously at the cuticle of his thumb.  “Us,” he mumbled against his hand.

Reaching out, Dennis pulled Tom’s fingers away from his mouth and gave them a squeeze.  “Why?” he asked gently.  “Are you worried about being in a sexual relationship with me?”

Tom’s face flushed red and he bowed his head in embarrassment.  “Yes,” he whispered.  A long silence hung in the air between them but Dennis did not push Tom, instead, he waited patiently for his friend to continue.

Minutes passed before Hanson lifted his head and looked directly at Booker.  “I lived on the streets Dennis, men paid me for sex.  I’m scared that I’ll _always_ associate sex with prostitution but more than anything, I’m scared that you’ll wake up one day and see me for what I really am.  A whore.”

Dennis stared at Tom in disbelief.  “Jesus Tom,” he exclaimed quietly.  ”I’ve told you a hundred times, to me you’re just Tom Hanson, a good, hardworking, kindhearted man and nothing that has happened has changed my opinion of that.  When are you going to believe me?”

Pulling his hand away Tom walked over to the bed and started packing his belongings into the bag that Dennis had brought in.  “Let’s just drop it,” he muttered moodily.  “I just want to go home.”

Annoyed at being shut down, Dennis was about to protest, but he suddenly stopped.  A plan was forming in his mind and a small smile played over his lips.  Standing up, he walked over to Tom and placing an arm around his shoulders, he gave a gentle squeeze.  “No worries, we’ll talk about it another time.”

Tom felt a huge sense of relief that Booker had let the matter drop so readily.  He found it difficult to convey his feelings when he himself did not fully understand his own emotions.  He knew it was something he needed to work on with Doctor Campbell and he was grateful that Dennis remained supportive.  Nevertheless, he wondered how long Booker would continue to be sympathetic to his mood swings.  He knew they put a strain on their friendship and he could only hope that Dennis would allow him the time to work through his problems.

Zipping up the bag, Tom looked at Dennis and managed a small smile.  “I’m ready,” he stated quietly.

Dennis smiled.  “Then let’s go,” he replied cheerfully.

Picking up the holdall, Tom walked past Booker and out into the corridor.  Dennis’ calm demeanor puzzled him but for the time being, all he was concerned about was leaving the hospital and starting his new life.

**

The Turners welcomed Tom with warm hugs and a promise of a home cooked meal.  When the greetings were over, Dennis followed Tom up the wide staircase and into the small room that was his home.  He kept his face neutral, unwilling to show the pity he felt at how rudimentary the accommodation was compared to how Tom used to live when he was working at Jump Street.  

Closing the door behind them, Tom tossed the holdall onto his bed and gave Dennis an embarrassed smile.  “I know it’s not much,” he tried to explain.  “But I like it here.”

Smiling reassuringly, Dennis placed an arm around Hanson’s shoulders.  “Tommy, you don’t have to justify anything to me.  As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

Tom managed a small grin.  “I am happy here.  I wasn’t at first but the Turners are great and I feel safe… which is kind of important, you know?”

Dennis squeezed Tom’s shoulders.  “I know,” he replied softly.  He refrained from adding, _but if you need anything, call me._   He had to learn to give Tom his space and allow him to become independent again.  As difficult as it was, he had to take a step back and let Tom make his own decisions about his life, even if they turned out to be the wrong ones.  Although not confident that Hanson would ask him for help if he needed it, he was certain that the Turners would contact him if they perceived Tom to be in trouble or in need of a friend.

Checking his watch, Dennis headed towards the door.  “Well, I guess I’ll let you settle in.  I need to go to the office for a while anyway.”

Looking slightly uneasy, Tom rubbed nervously at his upper lip.  “Um Dennis, could you do something for me?”

Elation filled Dennis’ heart but he kept his expression impassive.  “Sure baby, what is it?”

Walking to the end of the bed, Tom motioned towards the floor.  “That floorboard, the one with the knot in it, can you lift it?”

Giving Tom a puzzled look, Dennis squatted down and levered up the wooden plank.  He gasped in shock when he saw a baggie of cocaine and several large bundles of money lying in the small space below.  “What the hell?” he murmured, picking up the bag of drugs and turning towards Tom.  “You were using again?  Jesus Christ Tom, I can’t believe it.”

“N-No!” Tom stammered anxiously.  “I swear Dennis, I didn’t take any.  I got it from Thumper in exchange for…” His eyes filled with tears and turning away, he pressed the heels of his hands against them in an effort to stem the flow.  “Oh Jesus!” he cried out in shame.  “I just wanted to feel loved!  I just wanted…”  

Standing up, Dennis wrapped his arms around his lover and held him close.  “Shh,” he murmured.  “It’s okay Tommy, let’s not talk about it.  I’ll get rid of the drugs and we can forget it ever happened.”

Lifting his tear stained face, Tom struggled to speak as he sobbed uncontrollably.  “T-Take it all,” he wept.  “I d-don’t w-want the m-money either.  I n-never spent a d-dime of it.  Take it away D-Dennis, p-please t-take it away!”

Dennis glanced down at the bundle of notes.  He estimated that there was at least two thousand dollars hidden in the floor cavity.  It was a lot of money and Tom was virtually penniless.  But he could understand why Hanson did not want it.  The money was tainted, he had earned it by selling a part of his soul and spending it would only cause him more pain.  

Bending down, Booker picked up the rolls of money and shoved them into his pocket along with the cocaine.  He replaced the floorboard and stood up.  Placing his hands on Tom’s trembling shoulders, he looked him directly in the eye.  “Is that all of it?” he asked quietly.

Tom lowered his eyes.  “Yeah,” he mumbled.  Lifting his head, he met Dennis’ gaze.  “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I kept it.”

Sighing heavily, Dennis moved towards the door.  “It doesn’t matter now Tommy.  I’ll get rid of it and you can put it behind you.”

“Thanks,” Tom replied softly.  Both men stood for several moments in an uneasy silence before Tom stepped forward and gave Dennis a hug.  “You’d better go.”

Managing a small smile, Dennis nodded.  “Okay. Well, I’ll talk to you later.”  Opening the door, he gave a final glance in Tom’s direction and walked back down the stairs.

**

Dennis’ initial disappointment at finding the cocaine in Tom’s room slowly evaporated over the next couple of days and he found himself understanding Tom’s reasons for keeping it hidden in his room.  He knew many ex-smokers who still kept a packet of cigarettes in their bedside drawer just in case the craving became too bad.  Ninety-five percent of them never opened the packet and Dennis had enough confidence in Tom to believe that he was over his drug addiction and no longer felt the urge to use.

When he had arrived home, Dennis had flushed the white powder down the toilet.  He found getting rid of the money more of a dilemma, but he eventually chose to give it to Gerald Cooper’s homeless shelter.  He donated the money anonymously but he decided not to disclose to Tom where the money had gone.  In the future, if Tom needed financial help, Dennis was happy to provide it under any terms that Hanson felt comfortable with, whether it be a loan or a gift.

Having spent two days thinking through the plan he had devised at the hospital, Dennis decided it was time to put it into action.  He was nervous but excited at the prospect of speaking to Tom, as he had not made contact since leaving the boarding house.  Picking up the phone, he dialed the number.  An unidentified woman answered and several minutes later, he heard Tom’s voice.  “Hello?”

“Hi Tom, this is Dennis Booker, we met at the hospital,” Dennis replied, barely able to keep himself from laughing.

“Dennis?” Tom asked in confusion.  “What the hell are you talking about?”

Choking back a snort, Dennis struggled to keep his voice composed.  “Don’t you remember?” he asked.  “You gave me your number.”

“Fucking hell Dennis, are you high?” Tom asked, unable to believe what he was hearing.

“So,” Dennis continued, ignoring Tom’s comment.  “I’m ringing to ask you out on a date.”

There was a long silence at the other end of the phone before Tom finally spoke..  “You’re asking me out on a date?” he asked softly.

“Yep,” Dennis replied cheerfully.  “I like you Tom Hanson and I want to take you out.  Maybe dinner and a movie?”

Tears welled in Tom’s eyes and he struggled to speak.  He finally understood what Dennis was doing.  It was a chance at a new beginning, a way to start their relationship afresh without any baggage.  They would be just like any other couple on a first date.  There would be no expectations, no bad memories, just the excitement of getting to know someone you were attracted to.  “Yes,” he finally spluttered.  “I like you too Dennis Booker and I’d love to go on a date with you.”

“Great!” Dennis exclaimed happily.  “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven.”

As he hung up the phone, a large grin spread across Tom’s face.  Dennis Booker had asked him out on a date and he could not have been happier.

 


	37. Wine Glasses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Having spent two days thinking through the plan he had devised at the hospital, Dennis decided it was time to put it into action.  He was nervous but excited at the prospect of speaking to Tom, as he had not made contact since leaving the boarding house.  Picking up the phone, he dialed the number.  An unidentified woman answered and several minutes later, he heard Tom’s voice.  “Hello?”_
> 
> _“Hi Tom, this is Dennis Booker, we met at the hospital,” Dennis replied, barely able to keep himself from laughing._
> 
> _“Dennis?” Tom asked in confusion.  “What the hell are you talking about?”_
> 
> _Choking back a snort, Dennis struggled to keep his voice composed.  “Don’t you remember?” he asked.  “You gave me your number.”_
> 
> _“Fucking hell Dennis, are you high?” Tom asked, unable to believe what he was hearing._
> 
> _“So,” Dennis continued, ignoring Tom’s comment.  “I’m ringing to ask you out on a date.”_
> 
> _There was a long silence at the other end of the phone before Tom finally spoke..  “You’re asking me out on a date?” he asked softly._
> 
> _“Yep,” Dennis replied cheerfully.  “I like you Tom Hanson and I want to take you out.  Maybe dinner and a movie?”_
> 
> _Tears welled in Tom’s eyes and he struggled to speak.  He finally understood what Dennis was doing.  It was a chance at a new beginning, a way to start their relationship afresh without any baggage.  They would be just like any other couple on a first date.  There would be no expectations, no bad memories, just the excitement of getting to know someone you were attracted to.  “Yes,” he finally spluttered.  “I like you too Dennis Booker and I’d love to go on a date with you.”_
> 
> _“Great!” Dennis exclaimed happily.  “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven.”_
> 
> _As he hung up the phone, a large grin spread across Tom’s face.  Dennis Booker had asked him out on a date and he could not have been happier._

**Wine Glasses**  

Standing in the hallway of the boarding house, Dennis waited for Tom to come downstairs.  He felt nervous but excited, almost as though it really was a first date, which in a way, it was.  During the short time he and Tom were in a relationship, they had never done any of the normal things that couples did like going out for dinner, seeing a movie or taking a walk on the beach.  This time, Dennis hoped it would be different.  He wanted to spend quality time with Tom and have a chance to get to know the new man who had evolved from the Hanson he knew three and a half years ago.  Most importantly, he did not want a relationship built solely on physical pleasure.  He also wanted the intellectual stimulation he had enjoyed whilst dating George.  It was important that he did not fall into the trap of lusting after Tom as he had done previously.  Hanson was a lot more than just a pretty face and this time, Dennis was intent on exploring the inner Tom Hanson and not just the attractive packaging.

Dennis drew in his breath when he saw Tom walking down the stairs.  As much as he kept telling himself it was not about Tom’s looks, he could not help but feel overwhelmed by Tom’s beauty.  Dressed in a dark blue, button down shirt, black waistcoat, jeans and black boots, in Dennis’ mind, Tom looked stunning.  

Aware of Booker’s scrutiny of his appearance, Hanson bowed his head in embarrassment and a pink tinge colored his cheeks.  “Hey,” he murmured, his dark eyes peering through his long bangs.

Smiling, Dennis took Tom’s hand and leaning forward, he pecked him on the cheek.  “Hey yourself,” he replied quietly.  “Are you ready to go?”

Tom nodded.  Walking out to the car, he could not help but smile when Booker opened the door for him.  “Geez Dennis, I had no idea you were such a gentleman,” he teased.

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” Dennis replied playfully.  “But I plan on spending quality time with you so you get to know the real me.”

Gazing deep into Booker’s eyes, Tom tilted his head and raised his eyebrows suggestively.  “Is that right?” he responded in a soft voice.  “Then I guess I’ve got a lot to look forward to.”

The meaning of Tom’s words sent a shiver of excitement through Dennis’ body.  He would never have believed it but Tom was flirting with him.  For the first time in years, he felt like a nervous teenager who had finally managed to convince his crush to go out on a date.  That Hanson still had such an impact on him after everything they had been through was intoxicating and Dennis knew he needed to be careful.  It would be very easy to fall into bed with Tom and gain the release he longed for.  But this time he wanted it to be different, this time he wanted the emotional as well as the physical closeness.

After taking several deep, calming breaths, Dennis waited until Tom was seated in the Cadillac before closing the door and walking around to the driver’s side.  Climbing into the car, he turned to Tom and smiled broadly.  “I hope you like pizza.”

The joke was not lost on Hanson and he burst out laughing.  “Actually, I _love_ pizza,” he replied with a grin.

“Excellent,” Dennis replied and turning the key in the ignition, he pulled away from the curb and drove the short distance to Papa’s Restaurant.  When they arrived, a waiter escorted them to a corner table that offered them sufficient privacy from the other diners.  Once seated, Dennis picked up the wine list but he immediately placed it back down on the table.  “Sorry,” he said quietly.  “I should have asked if you still drink.”

Tom picked up the menu.  “Yeah I do,” he replied as he perused the wine list.  “Don’t worry Dennis, alcohol won’t send me spiraling back down the path of debauchery.  I promise you, those days are over.”

“Sor—” Dennis began to apologize but he immediately stopped when he saw Hanson’s irritated expression.  He was trying too hard to protect Tom from his past demons instead of playing the role of a couple on a first date that had no real knowledge of each other as they had agreed.  Taking a deep breath, he smiled and took the menu out of Tom’s hand.  “So,” he said, his eyes scanning over the selection.  “What about a sweet Lambrusco?”

Hanson threw back his head and laughed.  “A perfect choice with pepperoni pizza,” he replied in an amused voice.  “It’s like you know me already.”

Grinning happily, Dennis ordered the food and wine and settling back into his chair, he listened as Tom recounted his first night home with the Turners.  “They’re such a nice couple Dennis,” Hanson gushed excitedly, his dark eyes full of affection.  “They cooked me a really nice meal to celebrate my release from hospital.  And guess what!  They’ve offered me their son’s old residence on the third floor.  It’s actually a proper apartment, which means I’ll have more room and it’s fully furnished.  So I was wondering, do you still have the number of my mom’s solicitor?  I want to ring him so I can get my stuff out of storage.”

Booker could not take his eyes off Tom and he basked in the glow of his friend’s excited chatter.  Just days before, Hanson was in the depths of despair at the news that the police were investigating Nathaniel Smith.  Now, it was as though someone had turned on an invisible switch inside Hanson and he had come back to life.  He was finally looking forwards instead of backwards at the past.  It was a promising sign for Dennis and he felt optimistic about Tom’s future.

Sensing that Booker was staring at him, Tom stopped talking and grinned self-consciously.  He waited until the server poured their drinks before speaking again.  “Sorry, I guess I got a little carried away.”

Reaching out, Dennis took Tom’s hand and held it tightly in both of his.  “I love seeing you like this,” he said with a smile.  “And of course I still have the number for your mom’s solicitor.  I’ll give it to you next time I see you.”

Taking a sip of his wine, Hanson gazed at Booker seductively.  “And when will that be?” he asked softly, his dark eyes boring deep into Dennis’ soul.

A charge of electricity shot through Booker’s body and he shivered with excitement at the prospect of another date with Tom.  Tilting his head, he gave Hanson a cheeky smile.  “I dunno,” he replied casually.  “I’m free Saturday.”

“Saturday!” Tom exclaimed loudly.  When the other patrons turned their heads and stared in their direction, Hanson gave Booker a mischievous grin and leaning across the table, he spoke in a low voice.  “I can’t wait that long.”

“Jesus Tommy,” Dennis breathed, the thrill of Tom’s words causing his heart to pound against his chest.  “I thought we were going to take it slow.”

Reclining back into his chair, Tom’s full lips pushed into a soft pout.  “I didn’t think that meant at a snail’s pace,” he replied in a contrived sulky voice.  “Surely a second date happens quicker than that.”

Dennis could not keep the smile off his face.  “Okay,” he said, playing along with Tom and pretending to rethink his earlier statement.  “How about Thursday night?”

Placing his elbows on the table, Tom laced his fingers together and resting his chin on top of them, he gazed into Dennis’ eyes.  “Perfect,” he murmured softly, his eyes twinkling impishly.  “But how about this time you come to my place and I’ll cook you a meal.  I’ll be moved in by then.”

Before Dennis could reply, their pizza arrived.  Booker was glad of the distraction as Tom’s proposal had his mind racing and his cock swelling at the thought of being alone with Hanson in his apartment.  When the waiter finally left, he had steadied himself enough to be able to speak without sounding like a horny teenager.  “Sounds good,” he replied.  “How about I come around about six?”

Tom grinned through a mouthful of pizza.  “It’s a date.”

**

Pulling his Cadillac outside the boarding house, Dennis unclipped his seat belt and turned to face Tom.  They had forgone the movie, preferring to spend their time at the restaurant.  He had learned a lot about Tom during the hours they spent sipping wine and talking about their lives.  Hanson had spoken about his father’s death whilst on patrol and how his mother had hated it when he had decided to follow in his dad’s footsteps and become a police officer.  He had talked passionately about his love of music and that he could play both the guitar and the saxophone.  Booker spoke about his family and his life since leaving the Jump Street program.  Neither man mentioned their mutual friends from their time working undercover.  Dennis knew Tom still missed Doug and that it caused him great sadness to think that his best friend had abandoned him so readily.   Penhall’s behavior burned at Booker too and he often thought of picking up the phone and telling Doug _exactly_ what he thought of him.  But he knew it was not his business.  If Tom wanted to contact his old friend then he needed to be the one to do so.

Smiling dreamily at Tom, Dennis reached out and touched his face.  “God you’re beautiful,” he murmured, unable to contain his thoughts any longer.

Embarrassed by Dennis’ words, Tom lowered his eyes and blushed self-consciously.  “I hate it when you call me that,” he pouted.

Laughing quietly, Dennis gently brushed his thumb over Tom’s full lower lip.  “You look even more beautiful when you sulk,” he teased.

Hanson tried not to smile but he failed and he gave Booker a lopsided grin.  “Asshole.”

Dennis’ fingers lightly played with Tom’s small, hooped earring.  “So,” he murmured softly, his chest rapidly rising and falling as his arousal intensified.  “Do you kiss on the first date Tom Hanson?” 

Tom’s breathing became noticeably labored and he gazed back at Booker with hooded eyes.  “That depends,” he whispered.

“On what?” Dennis breathed, licking his lips in anticipation.

Hanson gazed deep into Booker’s eyes.  “On whether I think I might be falling in love,” he replied softly.

The sound of their combined heavy breathing rent the air.  “Are you?” Booker asked in a hushed voice.

Leaning forward, Tom cupped Dennis’ face in his hand.  “Yes,” he breathed and closing his eyes, he brushed his lips against Booker’s full pout.  Dennis moaned and his lips parted to allow Tom access.  Their tongues danced lightly around each other’s mouths as their kiss deepened.  After several minutes, Tom slowly pulled away.  He sucked lovingly on Dennis lower lip for a few seconds before turning and opening the car door.  Stepping out onto the pavement, he closed the door and leaned in through the window, his dark eyes shining in the moonlight.  “See you on Thursday.”

As Dennis watched Tom walk into the house, he let out a loud, frustrated groan.  His body had instantly reacted to the feel of Tom’s lips against his own and his erection strained uncomfortably against his jeans.  Strapping on his seat belt, he started the engine and drove towards his apartment.  He knew once he was in the solitude of his home, he would be able to give himself the release he needed.  



	38. Young Lust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: Pulling his Cadillac outside the boarding house, Dennis unclipped his seat belt and turned to face Tom.  They had forgone the movie, preferring to spend their time at the restaurant.  He had learned a lot about Tom during the hours they spent sipping wine and talking about their lives.  Hanson had spoken about his father’s death whilst on patrol and how his mother had hated it when he had decided to follow in his dad’s footsteps and become a police officer.  He had talked passionately about his love of music and that he could play both the guitar and the saxophone.  Booker spoke about his family and his life since leaving the Jump Street program.  Neither man mentioned their mutual friends from their time working undercover.  Dennis knew Tom still missed Doug and that it caused him great sadness to think that his best friend had abandoned him so readily.   Penhall’s behavior burned at Booker too and he often thought of picking up the phone and telling Doug exactly what he thought of him.  But he knew it was not his business.  If Tom wanted to contact his old friend then he needed to be the one to do so._
> 
> _Smiling dreamily at Tom, Dennis reached out and touched his face.  “God you’re beautiful,” he murmured, unable to contain his thoughts any longer._
> 
> _Embarrassed by Dennis’ words, Tom lowered his eyes and blushed self-consciously.  “I hate it when you call me that,” he pouted._
> 
> _Laughing quietly, Dennis gently brushed his thumb over Tom’s full lower lip.  “You look even more beautiful when you sulk,” he teased._
> 
> _Hanson tried not to smile but he failed and he gave Booker a lopsided grin.  “Asshole.”_
> 
> _Dennis’ fingers lightly tugged with Tom’s small, hooped earring.  “So,” he murmured softly, his chest rapidly rising and falling as his arousal intensified.  “Do you kiss on the first date Tom Hanson?”_
> 
> _Tom’s breathing became noticeably labored and he gazed back at Booker with hooded eyes.  “That depends,” he whispered._
> 
> _“On what?” Dennis breathed, licking his lips in anticipation._
> 
> _Hanson gazed deep into Booker’s eyes.  “On whether I think I might be falling in love,” he replied softly._
> 
> _The sound of their combined heavy breathing rent the air.  “Are you?” Booker asked in a hushed voice._
> 
> _Leaning forward, Tom cupped Dennis’ face in his hand.  “Yes,” he breathed and closing his eyes, he brushed his lips against Booker’s full pout.  Dennis moaned and his lips parted to allow Tom access.  Their tongues danced lightly around each other’s mouths as their kiss deepened.  After several minutes, Tom slowly pulled away.  He sucked lovingly on Dennis lower lip for a few seconds before turning and opening the car door.  Stepping out onto the pavement, he closed the door and leaned in through the window, his dark eyes shining in the moonlight.  “See you on Wednesday.”_
> 
> _As Dennis watched Tom walk into the house, he let out a loud, frustrated groan.  His body had instantly reacted to the feel of Tom’s lips against his own and his erection strained uncomfortably against his jeans.  Strapping on his seatbelt, he started the engine and drove towards his apartment.  He knew once he was in the solitude of his home, he would be able to give himself the release he needed._

**Young Lust**  

The next few days dragged on interminably for Dennis but eventually, Thursday morning arrived and with it came a nervous excitement that had him feeling both sick to the stomach and ecstatically happy.  He had no idea what to expect from his _second date_ with Tom but he hoped it would be just as fulfilling as the _first date_ had been.  Even though he longed to run his fingers down Tom’s naked torso and explore every inch of his body with his mouth and tongue, he knew he had to let Hanson set the pace.  He was actually enjoying the mystique of the dating game.  It was thrilling not knowing what to expect and it added an extra level of excitement to their relationship.  Dennis was sure that when he once again wrapped his fingers around Tom’s erection, it would be as though he was touching him for the first time.  The thought of being able to experience that pleasure for a second time was intoxicating and Booker longed for the day to arrive.

Deciding that he needed to take his mind off his impending date, Dennis went into the office and tried to keep himself busy.  But after he misplaced a third client file, he realized his nervousness was impacting on his concentration so he gave himself the day off.  Returning to his apartment, he changed into shorts and running shoes and drove to the beach.  He had not exercised in months so he took it slow, enjoying the feel of the sea breeze against his skin.  As endorphins released into his body, he began to experience the euphoria of _the runner’s high_ and he felt all the nervousness about his upcoming date with Tom slowly evaporate.  There was nothing to be worried about, he and Tom had faced unbelievable hurdles together and had come through the other side knowing that they both wanted something more than friendship.  They had learned from the mistakes of their past and this time, they would make it work.

Reaching the looming shadow of the bluff, Dennis turned and jogged back to his car.  By the time he arrived, he was tired but completely calm.  His mind felt clear and rational and he longed for the hours to pass so he could once again, be with his beloved Tom.

**

Mary Turner greeted Dennis with a warm hug and a kiss on his cheek.  Ushering him in, she looped her arm through his and squeezed it tightly.  “I’m so happy for you both,” she gushed, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice.  “You make such a handsome couple.  Oh and you’ve brought wine!  How thoughtful.  Tom doesn’t have much money you know so…”

As Mary prattled on, Booker’s face blushed a deep shade of red.  He had not realized that the Turners were aware that he and Tom were more than just friends.  It was refreshing to know that people of their generation were accepting of homosexual relationships but even so, Dennis felt uncomfortable knowing that his and Tom’s liaisons were being discussed within the house.  

Gently pulling his arm away so as not to offend the elderly woman, Dennis gave her a warm smile.  “Has he moved into the new apartment?” he asked.

Mary grinned happily.  “Yes he has.  He was so excited it broke my heart, the poor dear.  He’s such a beautiful boy, so polite and appreciative.  It’s hard to believe that our Lord and Savior would allow such terrible things to happen to such a sweet young man.”

Not wanting to enter into a theological discussion on why bad things happened to good people, Dennis quickly changed the subject.  “Third floor, right?” he asked, pointing up the stairs.

“That’s right dear,” Mary replied.  “He’s in the apartment on the left.  The one on the right is—”

“Thanks,” Booker interrupted.  He knew that Mary was just being friendly but he was not in the mood for idle chatter.  All he wanted was to see Tom.

Walking up the stairs, he reached the third floor and stopped outside the door on the left side of the narrow hall.  Taking a deep, calming breath, he knocked twice and waited.  A moment later, the door opened and Tom stood before him dressed in a white t-shirt and tight fitting jeans.  He was barefoot and he looked casual and relaxed.  Smiling, Dennis handed him the bottle of wine before leaning forward and kissing his cheek.  “I feel overdressed,” he laughed.

Tom’s eyes traveled slowly up and down Booker’s body.  “You look perfect to me,” he replied in a low, husky voice.  

Dennis could feel the sexual energy charging between them and his hands began to tremble.  “Careful Tommy,” he murmured.  “Or I might throw you on the floor right here, right now and have my way with you.”

Gazing seductively at Booker, Tom bit down provocatively on his lower lip as his eyes danced mischievously.  “Sorry Dennis, but I don’t put out on the second date.”

“Jesus,” Dennis moaned softly.  “You’re killing me Tommy, you’re fucking killing me.”

Closing the door, Tom walked towards the kitchenette.  “Enough flirting,” he laughed.  “Let’s have a drink.”

Booker walked around the apartment and he felt a real sense of happiness for Tom.  Although small, the apartment was well maintained and tastefully decorated.  Dennis was sure that once Tom had stamped his own personality around the place, it would feel even more homely.  Remembering the piece of paper in his pocket, he pulled it out and walking over to Tom, he handed it to him.  “This is the solicitor’s number we were talking about.  I’ve already spoken to him and he’s expecting your call.”

“Thanks,” Tom smiled, placing the paper on the kitchen counter.  He handed Dennis a glass of wine and motioned towards the couch.  “Dinner will be a little while, let’s talk.”

Sitting down, Dennis’ nerves returned and his leg jiggled restlessly up and down.  Running a hand through his hair, he grinned self-consciously at Tom.  “Geez, I can’t believe how nervous I am.  How come you’re so calm?”

Smiling, Tom lifted his glass.  “I’ve already had a couple,” he replied with a wink.  “There’s nothing like a bit of liquid courage to help you relax.”

Grinning, Dennis took a large swallow of his wine before placing it on the coffee table.  “I’d better be careful, I have to drive home and I don’t think my insurance company will be too happy with me if I have another accident.”

Curling his legs up onto the couch, Tom took a sip of wine and gazed at Booker.  “You could always stay the night,” he suggested.

Booker’s stomach flip-flopped and his heart fluttered excitedly.  The invitation was there but he was unsure exactly what it meant.  Picking up his glass, he took a small sip.  “Meaning?” he asked, he eyes searching Hanson’s face.

Tom had to bite down on his lower lip to stop himself from laughing.  “I told you, I don’t put out on the second date,” he replied solemnly.  “You can have the couch.”

“Fair enough,” Dennis laughed.  “So tell me Thomas Hanson, what exactly _do_ you do on a second date?”

Tilting his head on one side, Tom pretended to think about the question.  “Kissing’s okay,” he responded in a pseudo serious voice.  “And if I really like the girl or _guy_ , I guess I’d go for some heavy petting.”

“I thought you said you didn’t put out,” Dennis teased.  “Isn’t heavy petting in that category?”

“Fine,” Hanson replied, his dark eyes dancing playfully.  “Have it your way.  I guess we’ll stick to kissing.”

“Damn!” Dennis exclaimed with a laugh.  “Me and my big mouth.”  

As they continued their lighthearted banter, Dennis felt himself relax.  Their conversation soon turned to the last few days and Tom’s eyes flashed with excitement as he told Booker his news.  “Gerald from the shelter came to visit and we talked for hours.  He was pretty upset when he heard I’d… well, you know, but he’s offered me a job helping him at the refuge.  It’s just a few hours a week serving meals and dispensing clothing but at least I’ll be doing something.  I’ll be able to do more once I get my cast off and my injuries have fully healed.”

Booker’s heart swelled with pride.  Tom had only been out of the hospital a week and already he was making real changes in his life.  “Wow Tommy, that’s fantastic news,” he praised enthusiastically.  Reaching out, he took Hanson’s hand and gave him a tender look.  “But make sure you don’t overdo it.  You need to take care of yourself too.”

Tom’s expression softened and he gave Dennis a loving smile.  “You really are protective,” he teased quietly, squeezing Booker’s fingers affectionately.  “I’ll be fine.  Gerald knows what happened to me and he knows I’m still healing. I think it’ll be good for me mentally to get back out in the world and especially with people I can relate to.”

Dennis’ eyes filled with sadness.  “Are you saying you can’t relate to me?” he asked quietly.

Lowering his gaze, Tom picked at the fabric on the couch.   “I don’t know,” he replied honestly.  “I guess it’s hard sometimes ‘cause I’m such a fuck up and you’re so in control of your life.  Sometimes I feel like I’m not good enough for you.”

Moving across the couch, Booker pulled Tom into his arms.  “Don’t ever think that baby,” he murmured against Tom’s sweet smelling hair.  “I keep telling you, you’re a good man and when I look at you, that’s all I see.”

Lifting his head, Tom pressed his lips against Dennis’ and kissed him tenderly.  Booker parted his lips and Tom’s tongue darted inside.  He kissed Dennis slowly, his tongue exploring his lover’s hot, willing mouth.  He paused occasionally to nip and suck at the protruding flesh of Dennis’ lower lip before his tongue once again entered the warm cavern and continued its exploration.  As their kiss intensified, his fingers traveled lightly up and down Dennis’ spine, before stopping at the nape of his neck and gently tugging at his hair.

The taste of Tom on his tongue and feel of his hands on his body excited Booker and he could feel his needs growing.  Moaning, he slowly pulled away and smiled.  Cupping Tom’s face in his hands, he leaned forward and kissed him softly before again breaking apart.  “I think we’d better stop for a while,” he murmured.  “You’re getting me horny.”

Tom’s face flushed pink and he gave a lopsided grin.  “Yeah, me too,” he confessed.  “Maybe we should eat.”

Booker sighed with relief.  “Good idea.  So what’s on the menu?” 

Grinning, Tom stood up and walked into the kitchen.  “Well, the thing is, I suck at cooking so Mrs. T made us a casserole and I’ve jut been heating it in the oven.”

Dennis laughed and picking up his glass of wine, he followed Tom into the kitchen.  “And here I was thinking you’d been slaving over a hot stove all day.  I feel cheated.”

Tom raised his eyebrows and gave Dennis a cheeky grin.  “Well I’m sure I can find a way to make it up to you,” he flirted unashamedly.  

Letting out a frustrated groan, Dennis walked over to the table and sat down.  Picking up his knife and fork, he banged the handles on the table.  “So what are we waiting for?” he asked in a teasing voice.   “Let’s eat so you can start making it up to me.”

Chuckling loudly, Tom grabbed a cloth and took the casserole out of the oven.  He served up two heaped plates and sat down opposite Dennis.  As they ate and drank, the two men chatted comfortably about current events.  When they had finished, Tom stood up and cleared the table.  Dennis waited until Tom had finished before standing up and carrying their drinks over to the couch.  Placing them on the coffee table, he sat down and patted the seat next to him.  “So, where were we?” he asked with a grin.

Curling up on the couch, Tom leaned forward and pressed his lips against Dennis’.  “Right about here,” he breathed, his lips parting in readiness.  Dennis closed his eyes and placing his hands on Tom’s waist, he pulled him close and kissed him passionately.  

As their kiss intensified, Booker gently pushed Tom backwards against the cushions so he could press his body against him.  His hand traveled down the length of Tom’s slender body and when it reached his stomach, he slipped his fingers underneath the white t-shirt.  Tom’s body immediately tensed and reaching down, he grabbed hold of Dennis’ hand and prevented him from going any further.  Breaking the kiss, he stared at Booker with anxious eyes.  “Dennis,” he muttered softly.  “You don’t want to do that.”

Dennis frowned and sitting up, he searched Tom’s eyes for an explanation.  “What do you mean?” he asked in puzzlement. 

“My scars,” Tom whispered, his dark eyes filling with despair.  “They’re hideous.”

A deep pain stabbed at Booker’s heart.  Lying in front of him now, Tom looked so perfect, so flawless.  But his clothing hid a myriad of scars that blemished his soft, pale skin.  Because of the severity of the wounds, it was doubtful the scars would ever fade and they would forever be a reminder to Tom of what Nathaniel Smith had done to him.

Reaching out both hands, Dennis took hold of the bottom of Tom’s t-shirt.  “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that,” he murmured and he slowly lifted up the material and exposed Tom’s bare skin.  

Tom immediately screwed his eyes shut, not wanting to see the horrified look on Dennis’ face when he saw his carved up flesh.  He jumped slightly when he felt gentle fingers tracing a pattern over the skin of his stomach.  Opening up his eyes, he saw Dennis gazing at him lovingly.   

Seeing Tom’s astonished face, Dennis leaned forward, pressed his lips against one of the angry red scars and kissed it tenderly.  Tom moaned and his fingers grasped at Booker’s hair.  “Oh Dennis,” he gasped, as a shiver of excitement ran through his body.  “Oh God.”

Booker smiled against Tom’s warm skin.  As he continued to softly kiss the wounds crisscrossing Hanson’s taut stomach he could hear him making soft mewing noises of pleasure.  Moving a hand downwards, he rubbed his fingers over the large bulge in Tom’s jeans.  He heard him cry out softly and he continued to massage at the growing mound.  Growing bolder, he expertly popped the button of Hanson’s denims and carefully pulled down the zip.  Moving his head upwards, he found Tom’s willing mouth and kissed him deeply whilst his fingers slipped inside the material of his boxers.  Finding Tom’s cock, he lightly trailed his fingertips up and down the erect shaft.  He could feel Hanson squirming beneath him and his own cock hardened.  He gasped when he felt Tom’s fingers unbuttoning his jeans and he lifted his hips to allow easy access.  Needing to be free of the confines of his clothing, Dennis broke the kiss and sitting back, he unzipped his jeans.  He could feel Tom’s hot gaze burning into him as he struggled out of his trousers and boxers and exposed his large erection.  Hanson lifted his hips and allowed Dennis to undress him so that he too was naked from the waist down.  

Dennis carefully lowered his body against Tom’s and he groaned in pleasure as their cocks touched.  He rocked his body forwards and backwards against Tom’s and as the friction increased, both their cocks began to weep.  Dennis’ mouth found Tom’s throat and he sucked at the taut skin.  Tom’s hands grasped at Dennis’ buttocks and he moaned loudly as their movements became more frantic.   “Oh fuck Dennis,” Hanson groaned, his body writhing beneath his lover’s.  “Oh fuck!”

Lifting his head, Dennis’ mouth found Tom’s and their tongues clashed passionately as they continued to grind their bodies against each other.  

When his orgasm hit, Dennis thrust forward and dropping his head, he bit down hard against the tender flesh between Hanson’s neck and collarbone.  Screaming in pain, Tom’s nails bit into the flesh of Dennis’ buttocks and arching his body, he forcefully ejaculated his semen over their stomachs. As their bodies slowly began to relax, Tom found Booker’s mouth and he sucked lazily at his lower lip.  “So, did I make it up to you?” he murmured softly.

Gazing down at his lover, Booker grinned happily.  “Hell yeah.  Let’s just say, I can’t wait to see what happens on date number three.”  



	39. Crumbling Land

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: As their kiss intensified, Booker gently pushed Tom backwards against the cushions so he could press his body against him.  His hand traveled down the length of Tom’s slender body and when it reached his stomach, he slipped his fingers underneath the white t-shirt.  Tom’s body immediately tensed and reaching down, he grabbed hold of Dennis’ hand and prevented him from going any further.  Breaking the kiss, he stared at Booker with anxious eyes.  “Dennis,” he muttered softly.  “You don’t want to do that.”_
> 
> _Dennis frowned and sitting up, he searched Tom’s eyes for an explanation.  “What do you mean?” he asked in puzzlement._
> 
> _“My scars,” Tom whispered, his dark eyes filling with despair.  “They’re hideous.”_
> 
> _A deep pain stabbed at Booker’s heart.  Lying in front of him now, Tom looked so perfect, so flawless.  But his clothing hid a myriad of scars that blemished his soft, pale skin.  Because of the severity of the wounds, it was doubtful the scars would ever fade and they would forever be a reminder to Tom of what Nathaniel Smith had done to him._
> 
> _Reaching out both hands, Dennis took hold of the bottom of Tom’s t-shirt.  “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that,” he murmured and he slowly lifted up the material and exposed Tom’s bare skin._
> 
> _Tom immediately screwed his eyes shut, not wanting to see the horrified look on Dennis’ face when he saw his carved up flesh.  He jumped slightly when he felt gentle fingers tracing a pattern over the skin of his stomach.  Opening up his eyes, he saw Dennis gazing at him lovingly._
> 
> _Seeing Tom’s astonished face, Dennis leaned forward, pressed his lips against one of the angry red scars and kissed it tenderly.  Tom moaned and his fingers grasped at Booker’s hair.  “Oh Dennis,” he gasped, as a shiver of excitement ran through his body.  “Oh God.”_
> 
> _Booker smiled against Tom’s warm skin.  As he continued to softly kiss the wounds crisscrossing Hanson’s taut stomach he could hear him making soft mewing noises of pleasure.  Moving a hand downwards, he rubbed his fingers over the large bulge in Tom’s jeans.  He heard him cry out softly and he continued to massage at the growing mound.  Growing bolder, he expertly popped the button of Hanson’s denims and carefully pulled down the zip.  Moving his head upwards, he found Tom’s willing mouth and kissed him deeply whilst his fingers slipped inside the material of his boxers.  Finding Tom’s cock, he lightly trailed his fingertips up and down the erect shaft.  He could feel Hanson squirming beneath him and his own cock hardened.  He gasped when he felt Tom’s fingers unbuttoning his jeans and he lifted his hips to allow easy access.  Needing to be free of the confines of his clothing, Dennis broke the kiss and sitting back, he unzipped his jeans.  He could feel Tom’s hot gaze burning into him as he struggled out of his trousers and boxers and exposed his large erection.  Hanson lifted his hips and allowed Dennis to undress him so that he too was naked from the waist down._
> 
> _Dennis carefully lowered his body against Tom’s and he groaned in pleasure as their cocks touched.  He rocked his body forwards and backwards against Tom’s and as the friction increased, both their cocks began to weep.  Dennis’ mouth found Tom’s throat and he sucked at the taut skin.  Tom’s hands grasped at Dennis’ buttocks and he moaned loudly as their movements became more frantic.   “Oh fuck Dennis,” Hanson groaned, his body writhing beneath his lover’s.  “Oh fuck!”_
> 
> _Lifting his head, Dennis’ mouth found Tom’s and their tongues clashed passionately as they continued to grind their bodies against each other._
> 
> _When his orgasm hit, Dennis thrust forward and dropping his head, he bit down hard against the tender flesh between Hanson’s neck and collarbone.  Screaming in pain, Tom’s nails bit into the flesh of Dennis’ buttocks and arching his body, he forcefully ejaculated his semen over their stomachs. As their bodies slowly began to relax, Tom found Booker’s mouth and he sucked lazily at his lower lip.  “So, did I make it up to you?” he murmured softly._
> 
> _Gazing down at his lover, Booker grinned happily.  “Hell yeah.  Let’s just say, I can’t wait to see what happens on date number three.”_

**Crumbling Land**  

A month passed and in that time, things continued to improve for Tom.  His local GP removed his cast and aside from needing a few physiotherapy sessions, he had no further problems with his wrist.  The wounds on his stomach, chest and legs took longer to heal but eventually, Doctor Heath removed the sutures and gave him a clean bill of physical health.  Tom was still extremely self-conscious about his scars but Dennis made a point of constantly showing him that they did not bother him.  Whenever they were relaxing together watching TV, Dennis would lie on the couch with Tom in his arms and he would gently caress the raised wounds.  It was his way of showing Hanson that he loved him unconditionally, scars and all and he hoped that in time, Tom would become less concerned about his appearance.

Dennis also noticed an improvement in Tom’s mental health.  Since working at the shelter, he was less prone to outbursts and his mood was more stable.  He continued to see Doctor Campbell twice a week and Dennis was forever grateful to Timothy Heath for finding Tom such a brilliant therapist.  During quiet times when he was alone, Booker often wondered how different Hanson’s life would have been if he had received the proper care when he first came home from El Salvador.  He still felt guilty for shipping Tom off to Glenfield without first researching the facility.  Even though he and Tom spent hours discussing their pasts, they never spoke about the last three and a half years.  Dennis wished that Tom would open up to him about his experiences but he knew he only had himself to blame.  The last time Tom had tried to confide in him, he had stormed out of the room, the consequence being the end of their relationship.  He was glad that Tom had Doctor Campbell to talk to but he could not help feeling jealous that there would always be a part of Tom’s life that he knew nothing about.

Since their _second date_ , Dennis had worried about how little time it had taken for them to fall into each other’s arms and find their sexual release through the pleasure of intimate touching.  It was important to him that their relationship not be just about sex and so he made the decision to once again contain his sexual desires and concentrate on getting to know Tom emotionally.  They continued to have a twice weekly _date night_ and Booker purposely chose outings and events where they were not alone and therefore there was no temptation.  They spent many hours dining in cafés and walking along the white sandy beaches of Southern California and if Tom was surprised by Dennis’ apparent lack of libido, he did not mention it.

Arriving at the boarding house, Dennis took the time to speak to the Turners before walking upstairs to Tom’s apartment.  They had a dinner reservation at seven and he was looking forward to what would be their _ninth date_.  Knocking on the door, he checked his watch and waited for Tom to answer.  When a minute passed, he knocked again, this time rapping his knuckles loudly against the wooden paneling.  “Hey Tommy it’s me,” he called out.  “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

When his remark was met with silence, a deep frown creased his brow and he reached out and tried the door handle.  Turning the knob, he warily pushed open the unlocked door.  “Tom?” he inquired.  Stepping inside, he saw Hanson sitting on the couch with his head in his hands.  Panic immediately filled Dennis’ heart and he ran across the room.  Dropping to his knees, he pulled Tom’s hands from his face.  “Tommy what is it?  What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice rising in alarm.

Hanson turned his pale face towards Booker.  “They’ve found him,” he whispered, his body beginning to tremble.  

Sitting back on his heels, Dennis’ brow furrowed in confusion.  “I don’t understand.  Who’s been found?” he asked quietly.

“ _HIM!”_ Tom screamed hysterically as tears streamed down his face.  “ _Nathaniel Smith!_   The police just rang and said they’d brought him in for questioning!  Oh God Dennis, I can’t!  I can’t deal with this… not _now!_   Not now that everything is so good!  Why can’t they just forget it ever happened?  Why won’t they leave me alone?!”

“Jesus,” Booker muttered, his heart hammering in his chest.  Getting to his feet, he sat down next to Tom and placed a reassuring arm around his trembling shoulders.  “Tell me what they said.”

Sniffing loudly, Tom swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.  “The police are coming over,” he muttered, his eyes staring blankly at the floor.  “They want me to photo ID him and if I pick him out, then they’ll start their interrogation.” Lifting his head, Tom looked at Dennis with fear in his eyes.  “If it goes to trial, everyone will know,” he whispered.  “Everyone will know what I let him do to me.  Everyone will know I was a whore.”

“Oh Tommy,” Booker murmured, pulling his lover against his chest.  “No-one’s going to judge you.  What he did to you _wasn’t_ your fault and you sure as hell didn’t deserve to be tortured.  The man’s psychotic, he needs to be locked up.”

Tom pulled himself free from Booker’s arms and jumped to his feet.  “OF COURSE THEY’RE GOING TO JUDGE ME!” he screamed into Dennis’ face.  “I went to that hotel room willingly!  He told me there’d be blood!  He told me I would scream!  And I still fucking WENT!”

Dennis felt his stomach churn and his face visibly paled.  “What?” he whispered, his eyes widening in disbelief.

Seeing the look of horror and disgust on his lover’s face, Tom collapsed onto the couch and burst into a fresh flood of tears.  “Oh God!” he sobbed uncontrollably.  “What the fuck is wrong with me?!  Why did I go with him?  Why did I want him to hurt me?!”

Too shocked to move, Dennis sat silently staring at Tom.  He felt incapable of offering comfort, he was too stunned by Hanson’s revelation that he _knew_ that Smith was going to hurt him.  He doubted that Tom knew how extensive the torture would be but he had started out as a willing participant.  Booker felt hot bile rising in his throat and he quickly swallowed it down.  When he had found out that Tom had gone back into prostitution, it had shaken him.  But to now know that he deliberately sought out violent men so he could be abused shocked him to the very core of his being.  Even though he knew Tom suffered from psychological problems, he had not realized the extent of his internal torment.  It sickened him to think that Hanson thought so little of himself that he would allow himself to be tortured.  Dennis now realized that the man he thought he was getting to know was just a fantasy within his own mind.

A loud knock brought Dennis out of his daze.  When Tom remained seated with his face buried in his hands, Booker stood up and answered the door.  Abe Turner stood in the hallway wearing a worried expression.  “Dennis, the police are here.  They want to speak to Tom.”

Dennis gazed back at Hanson before returning his attention to the elderly man.  “It’s okay Abe, send them up,” he said quietly, not willing to give any further explanation.  He waited in the doorway until the two detectives who had originally visited Tom in the hospital walked up the staircase.  Before he allowed them entry into the apartment, he stepped out into the hallway and closed the door.  “You need to be careful,” he warned.  “He’s on the brink of a breakdown.  This has really rattled him.”

Detective Johnson placed a hand on Dennis shoulder.  “Don’t worry Mr. Booker, we’ve done this many times before.  We understand the need to be sensitive to the victim.”

The words _the victim_ swam around in Dennis’ mind.  _Was_ Tom really a victim or was he just a masochist who got off on feeling pain?  Dennis felt confused by the various diagnoses that Tom had received over the years and he no longer knew what to believe.

Opening the door, Booker watched as the detectives entered the apartment and sat down next to Tom.  He did not follow them inside, instead, he paced up and down the hallway.   He needed time alone to regain his composure and think about what Tom’s confession really meant.   It was not lost on him that he had once again reacted badly when confronted by another of Hanson’s admissions and he knew that this time, it was essential that he take the time to process the information.

He needed to think long and hard before making any decisions about his and Tom’s future together.

**

The detectives reemerged twenty minutes later looking relieved.  They spoke briefly to Dennis, telling him that Tom had identified Smith’s photograph and that they now had a case.  As he watched the two men descend the staircase, Booker clenched and unclenched his fists.  Nathaniel Smith deserved to be in prison but at what cost to Tom?  It troubled him at how quickly Hanson had fallen apart after hearing the news.  But the situation was out of his hands, all he could do now was be there for Tom, even if it was only as a friend.

Placing his hand on the doorknob, Dennis paused for a moment before opening the door.  Tom was standing at the window, staring down at the street below.  Hearing Booker enter the apartment, he turned around and stared at his lover impassively.  “I thought you’d left,” he mumbled.

Sighing heavily, Dennis closed the door.  “No Tom, I’m not the one who’s always leaving,” he replied in an irritated voice.  Moving over to the couch, he sat down and gave Tom a resolute look.  “I think we need to talk.”

“About what?” Tom asked impatiently.  He walked over to the couch and stood over Booker.  “Do you want to hear all the juicy details?  Is that it?  Or maybe you want to tell me that I’m a freak and you don’t want to be with me anymore.  Either way, it doesn’t matter ‘cause the way I’m feeling right now, I don’t give a _FUCK_ what you have to say.”

Dennis stood up so he could look Tom directly in the eye.  “God Tom, what the fuck is your problem?” he shouted.  “Why do you keep attacking me when I’m the only person who’s stood by you?  I’m fucking sick of it!”

Tom grabbed hold of the front of Dennis’ shirt.  “BECAUSE I SAW THE LOOK ON YOUR FACE!” he screamed, spittle flying from his lips.  “YOU THINK I’M A FUCKING FREAK!”

Taking hold of Tom’s wrists, Dennis yanked his hands away.  “I’m warning you Tom,” he said through gritted teeth, his eyes flashing dangerously.  “If you lay your hands on me again, you’ll be sorry.”

“Don’t you threaten me you son-of-a-bitch,” Tom replied angrily and he shoved Dennis forcibly in the chest.

Without warning, Dennis swung back his arm and punched Tom in the face, knocking him to the floor.  Hanson was back on his feet within seconds and with a yell, he launched himself at his attacker.  Dennis’ body crashed against the door and he doubled over as Tom’s fist slammed into his stomach.  Grabbing hold of Hanson’s shoulders, Booker threw him to the floor.  When Tom tried to scramble to his feet, Dennis sent a stinging blow to his face, knocking him back to the ground.  Before Hanson could gather his wits, Booker straddled his body and pinned his arms above his head.  

“GET OFF ME!” Tom screeched, his body twisting frantically beneath Dennis’ legs.  

“Not until you calm down,” Dennis panted as he tried to keep Tom from breaking free.  

“FUCK YOU, YOU BASTARD!” Tom screamed as he strained against Dennis’ firm hold.  Realizing that he could not escape, he lifted his head and spat directly into Dennis’ face.

Blind rage completely consumed Dennis and releasing Tom’s wrist, he smashed his fist repeatedly into his lover’s face.  Blood flew from Hanson’s nose and mouth but Booker continued his relentless assault.  After several minutes, his arm eventually slowed as his anger faded and panting heavily, he gazed down at Tom’s battered and bloodied face.  

It was then that he realized that Hanson was no longer moving.   



	40. More Blues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Previously: The detectives reemerged twenty minutes later looking relieved.  They spoke briefly to Dennis, telling him that Tom had identified Smith’s photograph and that they now had a case.  As he watched the two men descend the staircase, Booker clenched and unclenched his fists.  Nathaniel Smith deserved to be in prison but at what cost to Tom?  It troubled him at how quickly Hanson had fallen apart after hearing the news.  But the situation was out of his hands, all he could do now was be there for Tom, even if it was only as a friend._
> 
> _Placing his hand on the doorknob, Dennis paused for a moment before opening the door.  Tom was standing at the window, staring down at the street below.  Hearing Booker enter the apartment, he turned around and stared at his lover impassively.  “I thought you’d left,” he mumbled._
> 
> _Sighing heavily, Dennis closed the door.  “No Tom, I’m not the one who’s always leaving,” he replied in an irritated voice.  Moving over to the couch, he sat down and gave Tom a resolute look.  “I think we need to talk.”_
> 
> _“About what?” Tom asked impatiently.  He walked over to the couch and stood over Booker.  “Do you want to hear all the juicy details?  Is that it?  Or maybe you want to tell me that I’m a freak and you don’t want to be with me anymore.  Either way, it doesn’t matter ‘cause the way I’m feeling right now, I don’t give a FUCK what you have to say.”_
> 
> _Dennis stood up so he could look Tom directly in the eye.  “God Tom, what the fuck is your problem?” he shouted.  “Why do you keep attacking me when I’m the only person who’s stood by you?  I’m fucking sick of it!”_
> 
> _Tom grabbed hold of the front of Dennis’ shirt.  “BECAUSE I SAW THE LOOK ON YOUR FACE!” he screamed, spittle flying from his lips.  “YOU THINK I’M A FUCKING FREAK!”_
> 
> _Taking hold of Tom’s wrists, Dennis yanked his hands away.  “I’m warning you Tom,” he said through gritted teeth, his eyes flashing dangerously.  “If you lay your hands on me again, you’ll be sorry.”_
> 
> _“Don’t you threaten me you son-of-a-bitch,” Tom replied angrily and he shoved Dennis forcibly in the chest._
> 
> _Without warning, Dennis swung back his arm and punched Tom in the face, knocking him to the floor.  Hanson was back on his feet within seconds and with a yell, he launched himself at his attacker.  Dennis’ body crashed against the door and he doubled over as Tom’s fist slammed into his stomach.  Grabbing hold of Hanson’s shoulders, Booker threw him to the floor.  When Tom tried to scramble to his feet, Dennis sent a stinging blow to his face, knocking him back to the ground.  Before Hanson could gather his wits, Booker straddled his body and pinned his arms above his head._
> 
> _“GET OFF ME!” Tom screeched, his body twisting frantically beneath Dennis’ legs._
> 
> _“Not until you calm down,” Dennis panted as he tried to keep Tom from breaking free._
> 
> _“FUCK YOU, YOU BASTARD!” Tom screamed as he strained against Dennis’ firm hold.  Realizing that he could not escape, he lifted his head and spat directly into Dennis’ face._
> 
> _Blind rage completely consumed Dennis and releasing Tom’s wrist, he smashed his fist repeatedly into his lover’s face.  Blood flew from Hanson’s nose and mouth but Booker continued his relentless assault.  After several minutes, his arm eventually slowed as his anger faded and panting heavily, he gazed down at Tom’s battered and bloodied face._
> 
> _It was then that he realized that Hanson was no longer moving.  
> _

**More Blues**  

Walking out of the courthouse, Dennis’ eyes squinted against the harshness of the bright L.A. sun.  Sitting down on the wide concrete steps, he held his head in his hands and thought back to the night before.   When he had realized that Tom was unconscious, he had run down the stairs, yelling hysterically for the Turners to call an ambulance.  He had been surprised to find their apartment door closed and he had banged on it frantically but no one had answered.  Seconds later, the sound of police sirens cut through the still night air and he had quickly realized that the Turners must have heard the fight and called 911.  Running back up the stairs, he had dropped to his knees next to Tom’s lifeless body and cradled his bloodied head in his arms.  When the officers arrived, he had immediately complied by lying on the floor and putting his hands behind his back.  An officer had handcuffed him before hauling him roughly to his feet.  Minutes later the paramedics arrived and Booker had begged with the officers to let him stay until he knew Tom was all right.  But the officers ignored his pleas and he had been escorted down the stairs to a waiting police car and then taken to the eighteenth precinct for booking.  After a brief interview, the police had charge him with assault.  Having spent an uncomfortable night in a holding cell, he had gone before a judge that morning and he had been released on a _personal recognizance bond_.  A court date had been set for two months time but for now, Booker’s only concern was for Tom.

Slowly getting to his feet, he walked down to the footpath and hailed a cab.  He stared silently out of the window as the driver drove him to the boarding house.  After paying the fare, he climbed out of the car and slowly walked up the steep steps to the large wooden front door.  He rang the bell and waited, his hands shaking with nerves.  When Mary Turner opened the door, he saw a flash of apprehension in her eyes and sadness filled his heart.  

“Mary, I…” he began, but he was unable to continue as he choked back a sob.  

Mary’s expression softened and she stepped out onto the porch and took hold of Dennis’ trembling hand.  “Dennis, what happened?” she asked, tears filling her blue eyes.  “How could you have hurt Tom like that?”

“I don’t know!” Dennis cried out, his voice full of anguish.  “We had an argument and it got out of hand!  Oh God, is he okay?  Please tell me he’s okay!”

Mary squeezed Booker’s fingers.  “He’s fine, all things considered.  The hospital is keeping him in for a few days.  He has a broken nose and severe bruising but…”  Seeing Booker’s horrified face, Mary smiled reassuringly.  “Trust me Dennis, he’s _fine_ ,” she continued softly.  “He’s really worried about you.” 

Dennis’ eyes widened in surprise.  “He is?” he whispered, unwilling to believe that Tom would ever forgive him after what he had done.  

“Silly boy,” Mary replied quietly.  “Of course he is.  He _loves_ you Dennis but the two of you need help.  Violence is never the answer and Tom deserves better than that.”

Stepping forward, Booker wrapped his arms around the tiny woman and squeezed her tight.  “Thank you,” he murmured.  “Thank you for being such a wonderful person and thank you for loving Tom as much as I do.”

A deep blush stained the old woman’s cheeks.  “Now, now,” she muttered, secretly flattered by Dennis’ words.  “There’s been enough upheaval in this house without getting all emotional.”

Releasing his hold, Dennis managed a small smile.  “What hospital is he in?” he asked, his need to see Tom becoming desperate.  “I really want to see him and tell him I’m sorry.”

“He’s back in Eastside so that Doctor Heath and Doctor Campbell can monitor him,” Mary replied.  Placing her hands on her hips, she gave Dennis a hard stare.  “But don’t you go to the hospital if you’re going to lose your temper again,” she warned.  “That boy deserves some peace in his life and if you feel any anger towards him, you need to wait and calm down before you go in and see him.”

Embarrassed by Mary’s words, Dennis lowered his gaze.  “I promise you Mary, I will _never_ hurt Tommy again,” he muttered.  “I don’t even know how it happened.”

“But it did,” Mary replied quietly.  “And you need to know why.  I’m not one to meddle in people’s affairs Dennis but I’m starting to think that Tom isn’t the only one with problems.  Maybe you too should speak to someone professionally.”

“Maybe,” Dennis mumbled.  He was not enjoying being psychoanalyzed by the old woman but he knew she had a point.  He was fiercely jealous and overprotective of Tom, more than he had been with any other lover and he was well aware that it was not healthy.  Mary’s advice had him thinking and it did not take him long to make a decision.  If speaking to a therapist would help his and Tom’s relationship, then he was prepared to do it.

After saying his goodbyes, Dennis got into his car and drove to the hospital.  Once again, the receptionist told him he needed to report to the nurses’ station before he could visit Tom.  When he exited the elevator into the wide corridor, he had the disorientating feeling of déjà vu and his hands began to shake uncontrollably.   Walking over to the nurses’ station, he was about to introduce himself when he heard a familiar voice behind him.  “Dennis?”

Turning around, he saw Nurse Jackie Douglas approaching him.  Her mouth was set in a firm line and she gave Booker a hard glare.  “You shouldn’t be here,” she scolded.  “Haven’t you done enough?”

Dennis shoved his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet uncomfortably.  “I know,” he mumbled.  “But I really need to see Tom.  I need—”

“This isn’t about you Dennis,” Jackie shot back angrily.  “It’s about Tom.  That man has been through so much pain and torment and the last person I ever expected to turn on him was you.  What the hell were you thinking?  I thought you loved him.”

“I do!” Booker replied, his voice rising in exasperation.  “I hate myself for what I did and I don’t expect you to understand because even _I_ don’t get why we are so loving one minute and so full of hatred the next.  But what I do know is that we love each other and I know he wants to see me as much as I want to see him.  So please, just tell me where he is!”

Nurse Jackie stared silently at Dennis for several moments before nodding her head in agreement.  “Okay Dennis.  But I have to check with Tom first.”

“Thank you,” Dennis breathed and he felt himself beginning to relax even though he was apprehensive about seeing Tom.  He remembered Mary Turner’s words and he hoped they were true and that Tom really was worried about him.  As he paced up and down the corridor, he ran his apology through his mind but he knew it was too little too late.  No amount of apologizing could take away the pain he had caused Hanson and all he could hope was that his lover would forgive his transgression.

His heart began to race when he saw Jackie emerge from a room down the hallway.  He walked up to her and she gave him an impassive look.  “He’s in room 12 but be warned, I’ll be close by and if I hear or see _anything_ that I deem to be threatening behavior or if I think Tom is becoming emotionally distressed, I will have security remove you from the premises.  Understood?”

Dennis nodded.  “Understood,” he replied quietly.  He stood and watched as Jackie strode down the corridor before turning back around and staring at Tom’s room.  He took several minutes to calm himself before walking in.

Dennis gasped when he saw Tom lying on the narrow hospital bed, his battered face pale and drawn.  He had a splint on his nose and dark purple bruises circled his eyes.  There was also extensive bruising around his jaw line and a deep gash above his left eye bore several sutures.  The sight was so confronting that tears filled Booker’s eyes and stumbling forward, he threw himself into Tom’s arms.  “Oh b-baby I’m s-so sorry!” he sobbed.  “I’m _s-so_ fucking s-sorry!”

“Shh,” Tom soothed, his hand finding Dennis’ hair and gently stroking the dark locks.  “It’s not your fault Dennis.  Don’t cry, please don’t cry.”

“It is my fault!” Dennis cried out and lifting his head, he stared at Tom with eyes full of misery.  “Look what I did to you,” he whimpered.  “Oh God Tommy, look what I did to you.”

Reaching out his hand, Tom stroked Dennis’ tear stained face.  “I provoked you,” he replied quietly.  “I don’t even know why I attacked you when you were just trying to be supportive.”  

A long silence hung between them and then Tom sighed heavily and cupped Dennis’ face in his hand.  “I’m still so screwed up Dennis,” he confessed quietly.  “I thought I was getting better but sometimes, my mind just snaps and…”  He lowered his eyes and stared at the bed.  When he continued, his voice was barely audible.  “I need help.”

Looking at his lover’s wretched face, Dennis’ eyes filled with confusion.  “You’re already getting help baby,” he prompted gently.  “Remember?  You’re seeing Doctor Campbell twice a week.”

Shaking his head violently back and forth, Tom grabbed hold of Dennis upper arm as his eyes grew manic and he became increasingly distressed.  “It’s not enough Dennis!” he cried, his nails biting painfully into Booker’s flesh.  “There’s something really wrong with me and I’m scared!”

Worried that Nurse Jackie would come in and see Tom’s agitation, Booker pulled his lover into his arms.  “It’s okay Tommy,” he muttered in a soothing tone, his hand caressing Hanson’s back lovingly.  “Whatever you need, we’ll do it.  All I want is for you to get better. ”

After several minutes, Tom gently disengaged himself from his lover’s embrace and took hold of his hands. Gazing deep into Dennis’ dark eyes, he spoke in a low, calm voice.  “I’ve decided to voluntarily commit myself to a psychiatric facility,” he stated quietly.

Dennis stared back in shock, unable to believe what Hanson had just told him.  “What?  Tommy no!” he exclaimed, his eyes pleading with his lover.  “You don’t need to do that, we can work it out!  Doctor Campbell can—”

“I’ve already spoken to Doctor Campbell,” Tom replied, his expression resolute.  “He’s agreed to take me into the private facility he works at, that way I can keep seeing him.”

Wiping his trembling fingers over his lips, Dennis’ eyes filled with misery.  He knew he was being selfish but he could not bear the thought of letting Tom go again.  Then, as he gazed into Hanson’s sad, troubled eyes, he knew he had to do the right thing and let go, for Tom’s sake and for his own.  “For how long?” he asked quietly.  

A single tear slid down Tom’s cheek.  “I don’t know,” he whispered.  “But I do know I can’t be with you until I’ve received some help.  We can’t keep doing this to each other Dennis, it’s destroying us and I can’t lose you again, not after everything we’ve been through.”

Blinded by the tears that stung his eyes, Dennis pulled Tom back into his arms.  “Oh God Tommy, I’m going to miss you so much!” he sobbed.  “But I want you to get well and then we can start over, okay baby?”

Tom smiled through his own tears.  “Fourth time’s the charm,” he murmured against Dennis’ neck and this time, he felt confident that they would make it.  



	41. In the Flesh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Well, this is it, the final chapter. I could have prattled on about the trial but I think this story has gone on long enough. Special love and thanks to[Kundry Athalia](http://archiveofourown.org/works/search?utf8=%E2%9C%93&work_search%5Bquery%5D=kundryathalia) for your advice on the Spanish terms needed for this fic.  Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed "Over the Hills and Far Away"**
> 
> _Previously: Dennis gasped when he saw Tom lying on the narrow hospital bed, his battered face pale and drawn. He had a splint on his nose and dark purple bruises circled his eyes. There was also extensive bruising around his jaw line and a deep gash above his left eye bore several sutures. The sight was so confronting that tears filled Booker’s eyes and stumbling forward, he threw himself into Tom’s arms. “Oh b-baby I’m s-so sorry!” he sobbed. “I’m s-so fucking s-sorry!”_
> 
> _“Shh,” Tom soothed, his hand finding Dennis’ hair and gently stroking the dark locks. “It’s not your fault Dennis. Don’t cry, please don’t cry.”_
> 
> _“It is my fault!” Dennis cried out and lifting his head, he stared at Tom with eyes full of misery. “Look what I did to you,” he whimpered. “Oh God Tommy, look what I did to you.”_
> 
> _Reaching out his hand, Tom stroked Dennis’ tearstained face. “I provoked you,” he replied quietly. “I don’t even know why I attacked you when you were just trying to be supportive.”_
> 
> _A long silence hung between them and then Tom sighed heavily and cupped Dennis’ face in his hand. “I’m still so screwed up Dennis,” he confessed quietly. “I thought I was getting better but sometimes, my mind just snaps and…” He lowered his eyes and stared at the bed. When he continued, his voice was barely audible. “I need help.”_
> 
> _Looking at his lover’s wretched face, Dennis’ eyes filled with confusion. “You’re already getting help baby,” he prompted gently. “Remember? You’re seeing Doctor Campbell twice a week.”_
> 
> _Shaking his head violently back and forth, Tom grabbed hold of Dennis upper arm as his eyes grew manic and he became increasingly distressed. “It’s not enough Dennis!” he cried, his nails biting painfully into Booker’s flesh. “There’s something really wrong with me and I’m scared!”_
> 
> _Worried that Nurse Jackie would come in and see Tom’s agitation, Booker pulled his lover into his arms. “It’s okay Tommy,” he muttered in a soothing tone, his hand caressing Hanson’s back lovingly. “Whatever you need, we’ll do it. All I want is for you to get better. ”_
> 
> _After several minutes, Tom gently disengaged himself from his lover’s embrace and took hold of his hands. Gazing deep into Dennis’ dark eyes, he spoke in a low, calm voice. “I’ve decided to voluntarily commit myself to a psychiatric facility,” he stated quietly._
> 
> _Dennis stared back in shock, unable to believe what Hanson had just told him. “What? Tommy no!” he exclaimed, his eyes pleading with his lover. “You don’t need to do that, we can work it out! Doctor Campbell can—“_
> 
> _“I’ve already spoken to Doctor Campbell,” Tom replied, his expression resolute. “He’s agreed to take me into the private facility he works at, that way I can keep seeing him.”_
> 
> _Wiping his trembling fingers over his lips, Dennis’ eyes filled with misery. He knew he was being selfish but he could not bear the thought of letting Tom go again. Then, as he gazed into Hanson’s sad, troubled eyes, he knew he had to do the right thing and let go, for Tom’s sake and for his own. “For how long?” he asked quietly._
> 
> _A single tear slid down Tom’s cheek. “I don’t know,” he whispered. “But I do know I can’t be with you until I’ve received some help. We can’t keep doing this to each other Dennis, it’s destroying us and I can’t lose you again, not after everything we’ve been through.”_
> 
> _Blinded by the tears that stung his eyes, Dennis pulled Tom back into his arms. “Oh God Tommy, I’m going to miss you so much!” he sobbed. “But I want you to get well and then we can start over, okay baby?”_
> 
> _Tom smiled through his own tears. “Fourth time’s the charm,” he murmured against Dennis’ neck and this time, he felt confident that they would make it._

**In the Flesh**

_Four months later_  
   
Every time Booker heard footsteps outside his locked cell, he lowered his book and stared at the door.  He was due for release that day and he was anxious to get out of the overcrowded county jail that had been his home for the last two months.  When two officers had visited Hanson at the Bedford Psychiatric Center to question him about the attack, he had flatly refused to press charges.  But the police and the prosecutor decided that they had enough evidence and Dennis found himself charged with assault causing actual bodily harm.  He had originally been looking at a sentence of six months but because it was his first offence and he had an exemplary record when he was a police officer, the judge had been lenient.  Dennis knew he was extremely lucky that he had only received a two-month term and he made the decision to keep a low profile whilst in jail so that he could pass his time without incident.

Hanson had entered Bedfords the day after Dennis had seen him in the hospital.  At Tom’s request, Booker had not visited the center but they had stayed in contact by phone and letter.  Tom described his treatment sessions with Doctor Campbell and his hopes for the future once his sixty-day commitment was over.  He explained that he was still in touch with the Turners and with Gerald Cooper and that they both wanted him back once he felt he was ready.  For Dennis, it was a double-edged sword.  He was happy to hear Tom sounding so positive about his future but he found every day a struggle knowing that it would be months before he could be with his lover again.  

As fate would have it, Booker’s sentencing occurred two days before Hanson’s release date.  Once he received his judgment, Dennis had notified Doctor Henry Campbell so that he could pass the news onto Tom.  A few weeks later, Booker had received a letter from Hanson expressing his sorrow about his jail term.  Dennis was pleased that his lover had not alluded to any feelings of guilt over his incarceration.  But because he did not want Tom visiting him in jail, it had now been four months since they had seen each other.

Hearing the key turn in the lock, Dennis sat up on his bed.  “Looks like this is it,” his cellmate called out from the bunk above.  “You lucky bastard.”

The door opened and a young officer motioned at Dennis.  “Grab your stuff Booker, it’s time to go.”  

Dennis did not need telling twice.  Climbing from the bed, he picked up the brown paper bag that held his belongings.  Reaching up, he shook his cellmate’s hand.  “Take care Gonzalez,” he said with a smile.  “It’s been hell knowing you.”

Gonzalez threw back his head and roared with laughter.  “You too Booker, you son-of-a-bitch,” he replied with a twinkle in his eye.  “Now get out of here and go take care of that boy of yours.”

Grinning happily, Dennis followed Officer Talbot through the winding maze of corridors and into the administration building.  The officer behind the counter handed him the remainder of his belongings and after signing several pages of paperwork, he was finally free to leave.

Stepping out into the warm LA sunshine, Booker breathed in a deep lungful of air.  Although polluted by car fumes, it smelt like paradise after his two-month incarceration with hundreds of sweaty men.  Turning his head in search of a cab, he froze when he saw Tom leaning against his Cadillac, his arms folded casually in front of him.  He stared at the man who after so many years and so much anguish, still caused his heart to flutter and tears of joy filled his eyes.  Walking rapidly over to the car, he dropped his bag and pulled Hanson into his arms.  The feeling of Tom’s arms wrapping protectively around his body was too much and he started to weep.  “Oh baby,” he sobbed against Tom’s neck.  “Oh God I’ve missed you!”

Tom squeezed Dennis tightly.  “I’ve missed you too,” he breathed into Dennis’ hair.  Releasing his hold, he placed his hands on Booker’s hips and stared deep into his eyes.  For several moments they stood silently gazing at each other before Tom tilted his head forward and pressed his lips against Dennis’.  Booker moaned, and parting his lips, his tongue sought out Tom’s and they kissed passionately.  Moving his hands down to Hanson’s buttocks, Dennis pulled him in close so their bodies were as one.  Feeling Hanson pressed against him, he squeezed his lover’s cheeks and drew him in even closer.  He could feel Tom’s hardness pushing against his own swelling erection and he moaned softly, his body wanting more, needing more.

Realizing that one of them needed to take control or they would find themselves charged with lewd conduct, Tom broke the kiss and stepped backwards, his chest rising and falling heavily.  Grinning at Dennis’ sulky pout, Hanson pressed his lips softly against the protruding flesh and kissed him tenderly before again pulling away.  “You should go to jail more often,” he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.  “That was some kiss.”

Smiling broadly, Dennis grabbed hold of Tom and pulling him back into his arms, he kissed him again.  When they once again broke apart, he ran his fingers lightly through Tom’s hair and studied his face.  “God Tommy,” he murmured.  “You look great.”

Rubbing the back of his head self-consciously, Tom grinned.  “Maybe it’s ‘cause I _feel_ great.”  Taking time to study Booker, Hanson’s eyes traveled up and down his lover’s toned body and he licked his lips seductively.  “Have you been working out?” he asked playfully.  “Because I don’t remember you looking this hot.”

“Asshole,” Dennis laughed, playfully punching Tom on the arm.

Tom reached into his pocket, pulled out a set of car keys and handed them to Booker.  “I hope you don’t mind but I still had a key to your apartment and I wanted to surprise you.”

Taking the keys, Dennis turned them over in his hand before giving them back to Tom.  “Why don’t you drive,” he replied cheerfully.  “I kind of like the thought of you chauffeuring me around.”

Hanson opened the driver’s door.  “Don’t get used to it,” he shot back with a grin.  “I like it better when you’re taking care of me.”

Once seated in the car, Tom turned to Dennis.  “So, where to?” he asked.  “Do you want to get something to eat?”

“Home,” Dennis replied quietly, not wanting to ruin the moment but feeling that he needed to be the one to say what they were both thinking.  “I think maybe we should sit down and talk.”

Tom’s lips twitched into an uncertain smile.  “I guess,” he sighed, saddened that practical matters had to spoil their happy reunion.  But he knew Dennis was right, they did need to discuss their future and the sooner they did it, the sooner they would both know where they stood.

**

Stopping at the local convenience store, Tom waited in the car whilst Dennis picked up a few essentials, including two six-packs of beer.  As they drove the short distance to the apartment, Hanson shot a furtive glance in Booker’s direction.  He thought his friend looked uneasy and suddenly he began to feel nervous about having _the talk_.  Although confident that Dennis wanted to continue their relationship, Tom wondered if his recent incarceration had changed his feelings towards him in any way.   

Pulling into the underground car park, Tom shut down the engine and handed the keys to Dennis.  They both grabbed a bag of groceries and Booker picked up the brown bag containing his belongings.  Both men were abnormally quiet as they caught the lift up to the fourth floor.  Dennis unlocked his apartment door and walked in, followed closely by Tom.  Placing the groceries and his belongings on top of the kitchen counter, Booker gazed around his apartment.  “It looks bigger than I remember,” he said with a smile.

Tom felt some of the tension ease between them and putting down the bag he was carrying, he stood behind Dennis and circled his arms around his lover’s waist.  “That’s ‘cause you’ve been stuck in a six by eight foot jail cell with some sweaty guy whose name was probably Tiny,” he murmured in Booker’s ear.   

Turning around, Dennis gazed into Tom’s dark eyes and grinned.  “Jealous?” he asked, his eyebrows rising mockingly.

“Maybe,” Tom replied sulkily, his fingers traveling lightly down Booker’s toned stomach.  “He got to see you naked every day for two months.”  Leaning forward, he brushed his lips against Dennis’ full pout.  “I’ve missed you,” he breathed softly.  “I’ve dreamed about you every night.”

Dennis moaned as he imagined Tom lying on his bed thinking about him whilst he brought himself to a forceful, vocal release.  His mouth found Tom’s and he kissed him slowly and tenderly for several minutes before pulling apart.  “You’re distracting me,” he laughed softly, his fingers giving Hanson’s buttock a playful pinch.  “C’mon, let’s grab a beer and talk.”

Tom sighed resignedly and sat down on the couch.  Dennis walked into the kitchen and twisted off the caps of two beers.   Carrying them back into the living room, he handed one to Hanson and sat down beside him.  They clinked bottles and both men took a long swig of the cool, refreshing ale.  Cradling his beer in his lap, Dennis smiled reassuringly at his lover.  “Don’t look so worried Tom,” he said quietly.  

“I am worried,” Tom muttered, his eyes gazing at the floor.  When Dennis did not answer, he lifted his head and stared into his friend’s eyes.  “I don’t want to lose you again, not now that we’ve come so far.”

Reaching out a hand, Dennis brushed Tom’s hair from his eyes.  “You’re not going to lose me baby,” he murmured softly.  “I just want to talk about our future together, that’s all.”

“But why?” Tom replied obstinately.  “Every time we micro plan our future we end up fucking it up.  Why can’t we just take it day by day like every other couple does when they’re getting to know each other.”

Booker sighed impatiently.  “Because we already know each other Tom, that’s the problem.  We’ve been starting and stopping this relationship for nearly two years and I can’t keep living like this.  This time I want to do it right.”

“Meaning?” Hanson asked quietly, his eyes searching Booker’s face.

A red flush stained Dennis’ cheeks and he lowered his eyes self-consciously.  “I want to go to couples counseling with you,” he muttered in a low voice.

Before he could stop himself, Tom burst out laughing.  Seeing Dennis’ mortified expression, he quickly composed himself and pulled his lover into a tight embrace.  “Is that all?” he asked, unable to keep the merriment out of his voice.  “Jesus Christ Dennis, I thought it was something serious.”

Pulling away, Dennis gave Tom a sulky look.  “It is serious,” he responded.  “I want our relationship to work.”

Suppressing his laughter, Hanson managed to bring himself back under control.  “So do I Dennis and I think counseling is a great idea,” he replied enthusiastically.

Booker’s eyes widened in surprise.  “You do?” 

“Of course I do!” Tom exclaimed with a grin.  “God Dennis, we’ve been through so much together but this time we’ve got a real chance at a stable relationship.  I’ll do anything you ask if it means we stay together.”

Rubbing his fingers over his lips, Dennis cast his eyes downwards for a moment before looking deep into Tom’s eyes.  “And you’ll keep having therapy with Doctor Campbell?” he asked quietly. 

Nodding his head, Tom remained silent for a moment before tilting his head on one side and giving Dennis an inquiring look.  “That’s not all is it?” he coaxed softly.  “Tell me what’s really bothering you.”

Dennis fidgeted awkwardly in his seat.  He wanted to be honest with Tom but he was scared of upsetting him.  Chewing nervously on his thumb, he gave his lover an uneasy grin.  “I want to make love to you Tommy,” he muttered, his eyes not quite able to meet Tom’s expectant stare.  “But I’m terrified, especially now with the trial looming and all the bad memories it is going to dredge up for you.  I’m worried I’m going to trigger some traumatic flashback if you and I have sex and I’d never forgive myself if I caused you another breakdown.”

Tom spent several minutes absorbing Booker’s words before placing his beer on the coffee table and shifting his position so he could pull Dennis into his arms.  “I’ve had extensive therapy with Doctor Campbell Dennis,” he replied softly. “We’ve discussed Nathaniel Smith and the impact the trial is likely to have on me and he’s going to be by my side every step of the way to help me through it.”  

When he did not receive a reply, Tom placed his fingers under Booker’s chin and tilted his face towards him, kissing his lover tenderly.  “I _want_ you to make love to me,” he confided in a whisper, his lips gently brushing against Dennis’ mouth.  “It’s all I’ve dreamed about for the last four months.”

Booker felt his stomach flip and he moaned against Hanson’s open mouth.  “Are you sure you’re ready?” he murmured as his hand traveled over Tom’s body and he nipped and sucked at his lower lip.

“Yes,” Tom breathed.  “I want to feel you inside me.”

Taking Tom by the hand, Dennis led him into the bedroom.  As he gazed at his lover, his eyes grew black with desire and he could feel his cock swelling.  Taking hold of the bottom of Tom’s t-shirt, he slowly pulled it over his head.  Tom kicked off his boots and clumsily pulled off his socks, making Dennis laugh quietly.  Pulling Hanson close, Booker kissed him passionately, their tongues clashing fervently as their arousal intensified.  Desperate to feel naked skin, Tom ripped at Dennis’ t-shirt before finally managing to pull it off.  Their hands ran hungrily over each other’s bodies as Booker reached down and removed his sneakers and socks.  Dropping his head, he sucked at the flesh between Tom’s neck and collarbone whilst his fingers nimbly unbuttoned his jeans.  Taking hold of the zipper, he carefully pulled it down and let the denims fall around Tom’s ankles.  Hanson stepped out of the material, moaning excitedly as Dennis slipped his hands inside his boxers and squeezed his buttocks.  With trembling fingers, Tom fumbled with the fasteners on Dennis jeans, eventually managing to unbutton and unzip the faded denims.  Booker quickly kicked them away and maneuvered Tom towards the bed.  

Falling down onto the mattress, Tom lay back against the pillows and gazed at Dennis with large, trusting eyes.  Smiling reassuringly, Dennis slowly removed Hanson’s boxers and tossed them onto the floor.  Dropping to all fours, he knelt over his lover and kissed him tenderly.  As they gently nipped and sucked at each other’s mouths, Tom’s hands found the waistband of Dennis’ boxers and he slowly lowered them.  Reaching around, Booker pulled them off and threw them across the room.  Breaking the kiss, he gazed down at his lover.  “God I love you,” he breathed, his fingers lightly brushing Tom’s hair from his eyes.

Tom’s eyes gazed back with longing.  “Touch me,” he moaned, his fingers lightly trailing over Dennis’ erect cock.  “Please Dennis, touch me.”

Gently removing Tom’s hand from his erection, Dennis smiled playfully.  “Uh-uh, no touching,” he admonished teasingly.  “I want to play with you first.”

Groaning with pleasure, Tom’s eyes grew black as his pupils dilated with arousal.  “Kiss it,” he begged in a low voice.  “Please kiss it.”

Sitting back on his haunches, Dennis lightly wrapped his hand around the base of Tom’s cock.  Licking at his lips, he slowly ducked his head and pressed his mouth softly against the tip of Hanson’s cockhead.  Crying out in pleasure, Tom’s hips thrust forward and his fingers tangled in Dennis hair.  “Again,” he moaned.  “Oh God Dennis, kiss it again.”

Dennis did as Tom asked and as his lover’s body squirmed beneath him, he swirled his tongue around the weeping slit.  “Suck me,” Tom implored, his hips thrusting off the bed and his fingers ripping painfully at Dennis’ hair.  “Oh please Dennis!  _Please!”_

Lowering his head, Dennis took Tom completely, running his mouth up and down Tom’s erection whilst gently tugging at his scrotum.  He could feel Hanson’s body trembling beneath him and he lifted his head and grinned impishly down at his lover.  “I don’t want you to come yet,” he murmured, his hand lightly stroking Tom’s inner thigh.  “I want to make this last.”

Gently moving his fingers down the scarred skin, Dennis delicately touched Hanson’s perineum.  Tom gasped as a shock of pleasure ran through his body.  Encouraged by the reaction, Booker leaned over and brushed his lips against Tom’s open mouth.  “Do you want me to use my finger?” he asked softly as he continued to rub his fingertips lightly over the sensitive area of skin.

“Yesss!” Tom hissed, his body writhing beneath Booker’s touch.  “I wanna feel you inside me.”

Booker’s eyes lit up with excitement and he licked and sucked at Tom’s throat before sitting up and opening his bedside drawer.  He immediately found what he was looking for and he smiled down at Tom.  “You set the pace baby,” he murmured as he opened the tube of lubrication.  “We can stop anytime you want.”

Nodding his head, Tom watched as Dennis squirted a large dollop of lube onto his fingers.  Tossing the tube onto the bed, Dennis once again began to rub his index finger over Hanson’s perineum.  When he felt his lover’s body relax, he circled his finger around the puckered skin of Hanson’s anus.  He could feel Tom’s body trembling and he leaned forward and kissed him tenderly.  “Tell me when you’re ready,” he murmured against his lips.

“I’m ready,” Tom whispered, his voice sounding low and husky.

Kneeling back up, Dennis gazed lovingly into Tom’s eyes.  “Breathe in baby,” he instructed softly.  When Tom took a breath, Dennis again rested his fingertip against Tom’s hole.  “Now breathe out,” he murmured.  Tom exhaled and Dennis gently pushed the tip of his finger inside.  “Again,” Booker encouraged and when Tom let out a jagged breath, he pushed in a little further.  He slowly began to circle his finger in a clockwise direction and each rotation relaxed the tight rings of muscle inside Tom’s body.  After several minutes, he carefully slid his finger out and back in again as he bent forward and kissed Tom lovingly.  When he had gained full access, he found Tom’s prostate and he gently began to massage the gland.  He heard Tom gasp and he smiled against his lover’s mouth. “Can you feel it baby?” he asked softly.

“Oh God,” Tom panted, his body writhing in pleasure.  “It feels so fucking good!”

Dennis trailed his mouth down Tom’s torso, stopping to lap and kiss at the scars covering his belly.  Sitting up, he could see that Tom’s cock was weeping heavily.  He withdrew his finger and leaning forward, he brushed his lips over Tom’s seductive pout.  

Hanson lifted his head off the pillow and nipped lovingly at Dennis’ lower lip.  “I love you Dennis,” he whispered, his dark eyes heavy with longing.  “I want you to make love to me.”

Booker felt his body start to tremble.  This was the moment he had dreamed about since first meeting Hanson.  As he gazed down at his lover, tears filled his eyes.  “Oh baby,” he murmured.  “I love you too.”

They kissed again, slowly but passionately before Dennis sat up and again rummaged through his bedside drawer.  This time he pulled out a box of condoms and taking out a packet, he ripped it open.  Tom reached out his hand and taking the rubber from Booker’s fingers, he expertly rolled it onto his lover’s erect cock.  Once Booker was sheathed, Tom pulled him forward for another kiss before whispering in his ear.  “I want to feel you inside me.”

Dennis groaned and he reached over and grabbed a pillow.  “Lift your hips,” he instructed and he placed the cushion underneath Tom’s body.  Picking up the tube of lubrication, he coated the condom liberally before reapplying more of the oil around Hanson’s hole.  He maneuvered his body into position and Tom wrapped his legs around his waist.  Pressing his cock against Tom’s opening, he could hear heavy breathing and he gazed down at the man who meant everything to him.  “Ready?” he asked softly.

Grasping the top of Dennis’ arms, Tom’s eyes gazed back trustingly and he nodded.  Booker slowly pushed inside Tom’s entrance, taking his time so as not to cause any pain.  He heard Hanson’s sharp intake of breath and he drew out slightly before again pushing carefully back in.  Tom’s fingernails bit into his flesh as he pulled out and pushed back in, this time gaining full access.  Taking a deep breath, he slowly rocked his hips forward and backwards, opening Tom up with each gentle thrust.  “Tell me when you feel it baby,” he moaned, using all of his self control to keep from slamming his cock forcefully in and out of Hanson’s tight passage.  He knew he needed to control his fervor and treat Tom gently.  It was important to him that Hanson experience the gentle art of lovemaking and not the violent act he had become accustomed to over the last few years.  

Tom’s eyes suddenly widened.  “There,” he moaned loudly.  “Oh God Dennis… _Oh God!”_   Dennis’ pace quickened now that he knew he had found Tom’s pleasure spot.  Increasing his thrusts, he moaned as he witnessed the delight on Tom’s face.  “Harder,” Hanson groaned.  “Oh fuck… oh Jesus…”

“Are you going to come for me baby?” Dennis panted as he moved in and out of Tom’s body.  

“Oh yes… oh yes… oh yes…” Tom gasped, his nails ripping down Booker’s arm.  “Oh Dennis… I’m close… I’m close!”

“Do you want me to touch you?” Booker whispered, his breath rasping in his throat at the sight of Tom writhing beneath him.

“Yes!  Yes!  Yes!” Tom cried out.  “OH FUCK!  OH DENNIS!  OH GOD!”

Supporting himself on one arm, Dennis began to thrust his cock deep into Tom’s willing body.  Reaching down, he found Hanson’s erection and wrapping his fingers around the hard shaft, he tugged lightly.

“ _FUUUCK!”_ Tom screamed and his legs squeezed tightly around Booker’s waist as his orgasm hit hard and fast.  

Semen coated Dennis’ fingers, the sensation pushing him over the edge and he began to pound in and out of Tom’s thrashing body.  “Oh God… Oh Tommy… Oh Tommy… OH _TOMMEEE!”_ he yelled and he ejaculated forcefully as he pushed his cock deep inside Tom.  His arm gave way and he collapsed heavily on top of his lover.  Finding Hanson’s mouth, he kissed him roughly whilst he continued to shudder out his release.  As his cock softened, he slowed the kiss before pulling away and gazing down into Hanson’s soft, brown eyes.  “Jesus,” he murmured, his breath heaving in his chest.

Tom ran his fingernails lightly up and down Dennis’ back.  “Mmm,” he replied softly.

Dennis laughed quietly.  “Is that all you’ve got to say?” he asked teasingly, his hand gently brushing Tom’s hair from his eyes.

Hanson’s lower lip pouted seductively.  “Sex makes me sleepy,” he muttered, his eyelids growing heavy.

Withdrawing from Tom’s body, Booker pulled off the condom and threw it to the floor.  Rolling onto his side, he gathered his lover into his arms and held him close.  “Go to sleep then baby,” he murmured as he gently stroked Tom’s hair.  “And when you wake up, we can start planning the rest of our lives together.”  


_Finis_


End file.
